All The Good Things
by ForForever19
Summary: 'If Quinn Fabray thinks the month of May of her junior year is a disaster, then the following June is a complete and utter disaster.' 3-Part Canon Divergence.
1. White Fences

**Disclaimer**: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**AN**: Mentions of domestic and child abuse. Nothing graphic.

* * *

**Part One**

**White Fences**

* * *

If Quinn Fabray thinks the month of May of her junior year is a disaster, then the following June is a complete and utter shit show.

In the great scheme of things, Quinn can probably accept that it's all karmic justice, but there's really only so much she can handle. She's only seventeen years old, after all. Surely there's a cap on how much a teenage girl should have to go through in such a short time.

Take just these two months alone.

It's almost unbelievable.

First, somehow, for whatever reason, she ended up off the Cheerios without her really even knowing how it happened.

Then, there was the entire revelation about Lucy, which, well, actually went much better than she initially thought it would.

Then, Prom, which was a total, undeniable clusterfuck.

It was almost inevitable that Finn would break up with her, but even she didn't expect it to be at such a spectacularly bad time. No tact, that boy.

Nationals in New York didn't go any better. Losing was one thing, but losing because of Finn and Rachel was something else entirely.

And, then, there's this:

"What is he doing here?"

Now, Quinn can probably handle nearly anything this world has thrown at her - God knows she's survived a hell of a lot already - but everything has just built up, and now she's staring at her mother _and her father_ sitting _together_ on her living room couch, and -

And_._

"Quinn," Judy Fabray reprimands. "We don't use that tone in this house."

Quinn just stares at her, trying to figure out just what tone of voice she used to ask the question she knows is going to be the beginning of the end.

Taking a deep breath, Quinn asks again, "What is he doing here?" in a steady tone. She's calling on her HBIC to keep her calm and present, but she's just standing there, her suitcase at her side and her insides twisting.

She's just returned from one of the worst weekends of her life - bar the surprising haircut - and now she has to deal with this.

Judy rises to her feet. "Well, Sweetheart," she starts, her voice sickly sweet; "while you were away, your father and I talked, and I've decided to take him back." She smooths her hands over her pale dress. "He's coming home, Quinn."

Quinn just stares at her, believing she's heard incorrectly. "Home?" she whispers, frowning, because this isn't happening.

Judy smiles so widely that Quinn actually feels sick. She nods her head. "Home, yes," she says. "We need him here. Haven't you missed him?"

Quinn just about resists the urge to laugh, because, God, no, how could she miss the man who very coldly removed her from the only home she ever knew after she made one mistake?

"But - " Quinn starts, and then stops, because she really doesn't know what to say. She shakes her head, trying to clear it. "But, you promised me."

Judy's eyes widen slightly. "Quinn, that was a long time ago."

"A year ago, yes," Quinn says, and she's entirely too calm. "I didn't know promises have expiration dates."

"Quinn."

"No," she says. "You promised me he wouldn't be back; that I would be safe if I came to live with you again."

"It's going to be different now," Judy says. "He promises."

"Oh, and you just expect me to believe _his_ promise when you can't even keep yours?" The sarcasm is evident in her voice, and she just knows she's pushing buttons she thought she would never see again.

Her father is sitting tensely on the couch, fists tightly clenched, and Quinn knows, without a doubt, that nothing has changed at all.

"No," Quinn suddenly says.

Judy frowns.

"No," Quinn repeats. "I don't want him here."

Judy shifts her posture. "It's already been decided, Quinn."

"So, what, I don't even get a say? What about what I feel about this?"

"I'm the parent here," Judy says. "I've already decided, Quinn. Your father is coming home, and we're going to be a family again."

Quinn clenches her jaw. "A family?" she scoffs. "We've never been a family. He made sure of it."

"Quinn, you have to understand," Judy starts. "I'm so lonely."

Quinn clenches her jaw. "Then, find someone else," she almost spits out. "God, _anyone_ would be better than him."

"Quinn," Judy hisses, glancing over her shoulder at Russell, who is watching the entire interaction with hard eyes.

"I won't live here with him," Quinn declares.

"If you're going to fight this, nobody is asking you to stay," Judy says, and all the air leaves Quinn's body.

"Oh," she whispers. "That's what it's going to come down to, isn't it? You're choosing him again. You're doing it again."

"We need him, Quinn," she says. "We've been struggling without him. We need help, and you need guidance."

"Not from him!" Quinn snaps. This time, she knows her tone is harsh, and her parents both react.

Judy flinches, and Russell jumps to his feet.

"Don't you speak to your mother that way!" his voice booms, and Quinn does her best not to step back, even though she feels a flash of fear.

She hasn't felt this feeling in so long, and it's something she hates. She's been dealing with so much, all the time, and this isn't what she needs.

"Why are you even here?" Quinn asks him. "Where's your mistress?"

It's probably the wrong thing to ask, because his eyes turn colder. "Where's your bastard child?" he grits out, and Quinn's heart twists painfully.

"Don't you dare mention her," Quinn says, because he doesn't get to talk about Beth. She would be here with Quinn if it weren't for him, and he doesn't get to talk about her. Especially not that way.

"I'll talk about whomever I please."

"The same way you'll do whatever you please," Quinn scoffs. "What happens when one of us does something you don't like, huh? What happens then?"

Russell gives her a look. "I suspect you've learned from your mistakes," he says coolly. "You already know the repercussions of stepping out of line."

"As do you, right? I'm not the only one who's been kicked out of this house."

He steps forward, a sneer on his face. "Watch the way you speak to me, young lady. Have you no manners?" He glances at Judy. "I see why you need me here," he says. "She'll continually tarnish the Fabray name with this behaviour."

"What? The way you have?"

Quinn knows she should stop. She's just making him angry, but she can't. She hates this, and she's so disappointed in her mother for allowing this to happen.

"You can't just stand there and pretend you're some kind of saviour," Quinn accuses. "We don't need you. We haven't needed you since you skipped out on your family and dropped your pants for the first floozy you could - "

Quinn sees it coming, but she's too slow to avoid it, and Russell's palm connects with her cheek the way hers did with Rachel's just a few weeks ago.

Her own hand flies to the trauma sight, and she's both horrified and deeply disappointed. She doesn't even look at him, choosing rather to keep her eyes on her mother, whose own face is impassive.

"Is this what you think we need?" Quinn asks, and her voice is dangerous. "This is what you call different?"

Judy just shakes her head, and then says, "Go to your room."

Quinn can't actually believe this is happening, but her mind is spinning and her heart is racing and her cheek is stinging.

So, she just reaches for her suitcase handle, and goes up to her bedroom without looking back. She doesn't let out a breath until she's safely locked behind her bedroom door.

It's also the moment she bursts into tears.

She's disgusted and hurt and betrayed, and why is this even happening? She sinks to the floor, her back against her door, with her heart aching.

What happens now?

God, what happens now?

It takes Quinn almost fifteen minutes to get a hold of herself, and then she gets to her feet and unpacks her suitcase.

Only to pack it again.

And then another.

And another.

She packs all her things as systematically as she can, because she knows - she _knows_ \- without a doubt that it's going to come down to it. Whether she actually gets kicked out or leaves of her own volition, she doesn't yet know.

She has no idea what she's going to do or where she's going to go, but she knows she won't be able to live here with that man.

She won't survive it.

Before long, Quinn has all her things packed, and she sits on the edge of her bed and waits.

For what, she doesn't know, but the next thing that happens is her mother knocking on her bedroom door and calling her down to dinner. For a moment, Quinn contemplates not answering, but that will just create more of a problem, and that's the last thing she wants.

So, she goes.

And, it's a complete disaster.

Not that she expects anything else.

Quinn isn't hungry, but she thinks she's going to start some kind of riot if she doesn't eat what her mother _so generously prepared for her_. She's tense, and she just wants the meal to pass by without any problems.

But, her mother has to ask her about her trip to New York.

Quinn is tempted to lie, but her mouth says the words, "We didn't win," before she can stop herself.

"Oh?" Judy says. "I'm sorry, Honey. What happened?"

Quinn presses her lips together, stopping herself from breaking into a rant about stupid Finn and stupid Rachel and stupid kisses. "The other teams were better prepared, I think," she says diplomatically.

"Why weren't you as prepared?" Russell asks her, a certain edge to his voice.

She shrugs. "We're a passionate group," she says. "It's sometimes difficult to get things done."

"Don't you have a teacher in charge?"

Quinn almost rolls her eyes. "He's not the strongest personality in the room," she comments, which is probably kind at this point, because he was going to leave them.

He was going to abandon them, and Quinn has seen the back of far too many people in her life.

"Then, surely, you should find someone else," Russell says, almost dismissively. Then, frowning, he asks, "What Club is this, anyway?"

Judy hesitates before explaining it's a singing group.

Russell's face twists into a scowl. "Singing?" he asks with disgust. He looks at Judy. "This is what you've been letting her do while I've been away?"

"She started before," Judy says. "It makes her happy."

He scoffs. "Happy?" he asks, looking contrite. "What? Are you going to tell me this... Club doesn't make my family look like a bunch of fucking fairies?"

Quinn flinches at his harsh language.

"Russell," Judy says. "Quinn has maintained her grades, despite everything."

"Everything?" he questions. "You mean the bastard child that's tainted our name?"

Quinn's grip tightens on her fork, and she has the simple desire to stab her father with it. Beth is always going to be a vulnerable place for him to hurt her, and she needs to school her features, so he doesn't keep using it against her.

Maybe Russell is gearing up for a fight; for a chance to exact his authority, because he doesn't drop it. He doesn't stop asking about Quinn's life, dissecting her Prom loss and recent breakup, which her mother _has_ to reveal.

And, well, Quinn snaps.

It's almost inevitable.

"Well, what did you expect?" she says, her voice accusing. "I've been raising myself for the past few years. You're an absent, abusive father, and my mother is a damn alcoholic!"

Maybe it's the word 'abusive,' or something else - she did sort of swear - but the moment Russell gets to his feet and comes for her, Quinn wonders if this is all still a part of her karmic payback.

At least, that's what she's thinking the moment before she passes out.

* * *

Quinn hears herself groan first, before any of her other senses even kick in.

Touch is in the forefront immediately, her entire body roaring to life, as the pain with which her father rewarded her erupts.

She groans again, shifting her body to try to alleviate the pain; just to give herself some respite. It takes her only a second to realise that moving is the absolute worst thing she can do.

She doesn't bother to open her eyes, already allowing her body to slip back into slumber.

* * *

What feels like seconds later, she's regaining consciousness, and the pain hasn't seemed to lessen in any way. She does, however, feel a little stronger, which is going to go a long way towards helping her catalogue and see to her wounds.

Because, they are wounds.

There's blood, which has happened only twice before. Open wounds are harder to hide, because they require some kind of dressing. They bleed.

They scar.

Gathering all the will power she has, she manages to get herself off her bed. The fact she's even on her bed is surprising. There's even a light blanket laid over her, and she wonders what her mother was feeling when Russell must have carried her unconscious form to her bedroom.

She wants not to care, but she does. She cares so much that her mother is doing this again. Before the pregnancy, Quinn tried so hard to stay in line and be the perfect daughter. She did everything they asked of her.

And, then, she made one decision, just to _feel_ for once in her life, and the Universe decided it would be a nice story to have her end up pregnant. It's difficult not to feel sorry for herself at times like these, but she can't help it.

With a heavy sigh, Quinn drags herself to her bathroom to get cleaned up. She tries not to pay too much attention to what she's doing, because the severity of this particular beating is troublesome.

This is a message sent.

He's saying something very specific.

Fall in line.

Do as I say.

Quinn hears him loud and clear, which is why she can't stay here. She has no idea what she's going to do, or even if she can get anywhere tonight. She doesn't even know what time it is.

All she's really aware of is the pain, and the lingering fear.

This is no way to live, and Quinn shudders to think what would have happened if Russell returned to the house and Quinn had actually taken her mother up on the offer to keep Beth.

God.

What would Quinn do then?

* * *

Once Quinn has seen to the most pressing injuries, she's hit by a wave of exhaustion. She's also a little hungry, but she's sure she can find something once she's gone.

Where, she still doesn't know; just that it's somewhere.

It should be simpler this time around.

She wants to leave, so they'll have to let her.

Really, she doesn't know how she's going to get all her things out of the house when she's this injured. Maybe she'll just take the essentials with her, and come back for the rest when her parents aren't home.

Okay.

That sounds like a plan.

Sucking in a breath and shouldering her backpack, Quinn stumbles to her feet and heads to the door with the intention of leaving.

Only.

The door is locked.

Quinn can't say she's actually surprised, and her grip on the door handle slackens in utter defeat. Instead of immediately crying, she actually laughs, because, God, this is so not what she was expecting when she arrived home.

No.

It's not her home.

This place has never been her home.

Her laughter quickly turns to sobs, and she just wishes this wasn't her life.

Quinn turns her head to look at the window, contemplating if she would do more damage to her body if she tried to leave that way. Her father would probably hear her, and it's too much of a risk.

She'll figure something out in the morning.

Right now, she's safe in her bedroom.

Well, she hopes she is.

It's the only reason she's not full on panicking in this moment, even though there's a hopelessness creeping into her bones.

Her body hurts in places it hasn't hurt in a very long time, and she's going to have to deal with it at some point, but, right now, she just wants to stand here and breathe.

Her heart is racing.

Her breathing is ragged.

She's still crying.

"Get it together, Fabray," she says to herself. "It's fine. You're fine."

It's not, and she's not, but she can convince herself of it if she says it enough times. She hasn't felt this helpless since she was pregnant and caught in a horrid lie without a home and family. It's settling heavily on her, and all she wants is for someone to make it better.

She just wants her mother to take it all back. She needs someone to tell her everything is going to be okay, because it's the furthest truth from her mind right now.

Keeping a handle on her through proves to be difficult, but she forces herself to focus on cleaning her open wounds and rubbing salve on her bruises. She struggles through getting on her pyjamas, takes one too many painkillers, and then crawls into bed.

Her body immediately relaxes, and she forces herself not to make a sound, even though there's a moan stuck in her throat.

She just needs some sleep.

If she can get some sleep, surely things will be better when she wakes. They'll be clearer, and she'll be able to make sense of what she has to do to get through this life her mother now wants them both to live.

Just, sleep.

It's all she needs.

Only.

Something unsettles her enough that she can't manage to drift off. It's more than just the pain, and she huffs out a breath when she realises what it is.

Guilt.

With a sigh, Quinn reaches for her phone and pulls up the contact she's convinced she would never use.

Rachel Berry.

With the stinging in her cheek as a reminder, Quinn carefully composes a text message that she hopes will settle the unease in her gut. She knows it's been weeks since Prom, and she knows she's apologised for her actions, but it still bothers her.

Because she knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of such actions.

She's known since she was six years old and she got caught in one of Frannie's lies.

She knows violence, and she's disgusted with herself for using it so... directly at someone else; at anyone else.

Quinn's really only used words herself.

She's never actually thrown a slushy, but she reasons that means nothing.

She rereads what she's written a few times, takes a breath, and then hits send.

She doesn't bother to wait for a reply, because there's a part of her that wishes she doesn't get one.

Maybe it helps, or maybe she's just exhausted, but she eventually manages to get to sleep, and she's mercifully saved from nightmares.

* * *

**Quinn Fabray**: _Hello, Rachel, it's Quinn. I know you've said you forgive me for what happened in the bathroom at Prom, but I need to apologise again. If not for you, then for me. I'm many things, but I've never wanted to cause pain that way. You were so kind and so gracious afterwards - which may or not be a fault of yours; you should probably look into that - and I still don't believe I deserve it. I just want you to know how sorry I am, even though I don't think I can express myself enough. I promise it will never happen again. Never ever again._

_Goodnight X_

Rachel reads the text four times before she can even come up with a response. She's not sure what to say. The text is so unexpected, completely out of the blue. And, given the way everything was left after the disaster of a Nationals, hearing from Quinn is definitely the one thing she didn't see coming.

She already feels awful about the part she may or may not have played in their Nationals' loss, and this text brings up something else she feels awful about. That entire Prom debacle is something she wants stripped from her mind, and she can't help wondering why Quinn would choose tonight to bring it up.

In the end, Rachel can't decide on what to say, so she resolves to talk to Quinn at school in the morning about it.

Only, Quinn isn't in school.

Rachel searches for her before homeroom, even risking asking Santana and Brittany, which is a danger all in its own, given the way Santana glares at her as if she's still plotting her murder.

"Haven't seen her," Santana clips. "What do you want with her, anyway? Want to rub it in her face you're now with the ogre?"

Rachel blinks in surprise, because she really hasn't even thought of Finn this morning. "No," she says. "I just need to talk to her about something."

"Well, we don't know where she is," Santana says, and then frowns. "Have you tried texting her?"

Rachel presses her lips together, not answering. "Never mind," she finally says, and then spins on her heel and walks away. Sure, she could text Quinn, but she doesn't want her reply to Quinn's initial text to be asking the girl where she is.

She does it anyway.

**Rachel Berry**: _Are you in school today? I thought we could sit and talk about your text. If it's still bothering you after all this time, then it might be a good idea_.

In her search for Quinn, she successfully evades Finn until he manages to catch her at lunch, and she really isn't sure what to say to him.

She suspects he wants answers to questions he's repeatedly asked, but the only thing Rachel can think to say to him is: "Have you seen Quinn today?"

His shock is almost funny, and he actually sputters at the unexpected question. "What?"

"Quinn," she says. "Have you seen her?"

Finn frowns, clearly thrown. "Are you seriously asking me about Quinn?"

Rachel nods, turning her head to look into her open locker. "I've been looking for her."

"Why?"

"I need to talk to her about something."

"What could you possibly need to talk to her about?" he asks, a certain edge to his voice.

"Something," she says, glancing at him. "Have you seen her or not?"

"Not."

"That's all you needed to say," she says, motioning to close her locker. "Aren't you going to the cafeteria for lunch?"

He takes a moment, catching up. "I was wondering if we could talk, actually."

"About?"

"What happened in New York," he says. "What it means for us."

Rachel sighs, because this is the absolute last thing she wants to be talking about right now. She knows deep in her heart that she's going to be in New York next year, and she's not going to let this boy get in the way of that.

She just doesn't know how to tell him that, and actually have him believe her.

Before she can reply to him, her phone buzzes, and she immediately reaches for it, grateful for the distraction.

"Excuse me," she says, and then turns away from him, surprised and relieved to see a reply from Quinn.

**Quinn Fabray**: _No, I'm not at school. Some things have come up, and I don't think I'm going to be back before school lets out. We don't really have to talk about it. Please don't feel obligated to_.

Rachel frowns at her screen, unsure what to make of that. It feels hollow and unfeeling, and the mere idea of Quinn missing the last few days of school fills her with some foreign feeling that she's not willing to unpack.

Ignoring Finn, she types out her reply.

**Rachel Berry**: _Oh. Is everything okay? Are you okay? I think we do need to talk about it, Quinn. If not for you, then for me_.

She feels a little uneasy when she sends the message, as if she's asking questions she really doesn't want the answers to.

Provided Quinn actually gives her answers.

With a sigh, Rachel turns back to Finn, who is looking expectantly at her. "Finn," she starts.

"Wait," he interjects. "Before you say anything, just remember that I love you."

Rachel can barely look at him because he just looks so hopeful, and she doesn't know if she'll be able to keep avoiding his advances when he doesn't seem to be listening to her.

"I remember," Rachel says, deflating slightly. "I just - I - "

"What?"

Rachel's phone buzzes again, and she's going to use it to get out of this conversation with Finn. "I'm sorry, Finn," she says. "I already told you what I wanted, and that still stands. Right now, I really need to take this." She gestures to her phone. "I'll see you in Glee."

And then she walks away, her main focus getting to a secluded place to deal with whatever Quinn is and isn't telling her.

Rachel makes her way to the Choir Room, knowing it'll be empty at this time. She ducks inside, drops into a chair and looks at her phone.

**Quinn Fabray**: _Everything is fine. I'm fine. There's no need to worry. It's doubtful we'll be able to do it face-to-face then. What exactly would you like to talk about_?

Rachel can't shake her unease, and Quinn isn't really helping.

**Rachel Berry**: _You're not really helping with my worry when you say things like that. Why do I get the feeling something is actually wrong? Why wouldn't we be able to talk face-to-face? Are you not in Lima_?

Rachel bites her bottom lip in worry, thinking she might have gone overboard with the questions. There's a part of her that just wants to lay eyes on Quinn in this moment, and she doesn't know what to do with that.

Right now, the image she has of Quinn in her head is one of sad, hazel eyes and lips pressed into a thin line. She sees pales cheeks and hands that are always still, resting elegantly in her lap.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I'm sure you have better things to do than worry about me. Something like that, yeah_.

If that isn't a non-answer, Rachel doesn't know what is.

It's the reason she does the unthinkable and dials Quinn's number. She almost doesn't expect the blonde to answer, but she sucks in a breath when she hears a hesitant voice speak.

"Hello."

"Quinn," she breathes. "How are you?"

There's a clearing of a throat, and then a soft voice says, "I'm fine, and how are you?"

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you whispering?"

"No reason."

"Where are you?"

Quinn sighs, and then audibly winces. "I'm at home."

"I can tell something's wrong," Rachel says. "Why are you at home?"

Quinn waits a moment. "I'm moving house," she eventually says. "Packing up and all that. My mother kind of sprung it on me, and we kind of fought, I guess. I'm not a fan of change."

It's definitely more than Rachel is expecting to get, and it catches her off guard. "I can't imagine what that must be like."

Quinn lets out a soft, humourless laugh. "I'm actually quite used to bouncing around," she says darkly. "Being told to pack my things and leave isn't exactly new to me."

Rachel feels her chest tighten at the sound of those words. She's never really thought about what it must have been like for Quinn, mainly because...

Well, she really can't say why.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says.

"Please don't be," Quinn says. "The last thing I want is pity. Least of all from you."

Rachel lets out a breath, oddly disappointed.

"What I mean is that I'm the last person you should be pitying," Quinn tries to explain, because the last thing she wants to do is hurt Rachel even more. "With how awful I've been to you, anyone but me should be on your brain."

"If I didn't think about everyone who's ever done me a wrong, I would have nobody on my mind," Rachel finds herself admitting.

"Like I said, you should probably look into that."

Rachel lets out an unexpected laugh. "It's not an ailment, Quinn."

"Seems to me it causes you more pain than you deserve," Quinn says, and her voice is so, so soft.

"I'm not going to stop caring, you know," Rachel informs her.

"You confuse me."

"You're not the only one, I can assure you."

Quinn hums in acknowledgement. Then, carefully, she says, "I'm sorry."

"You've already apologised, Quinn."

"This apology isn't for the slap, even though you should know how deeply sorry I am about that."

"I've already forgiven you," Rachel interjects.

"I'm apologising for everything else," Quinn says, as if Rachel hasn't even spoken. "Freshman year, sophomore year, and this year." She sighs. "I don't think I could apologise enough, and you're far too good at heart even to consider forgiving me."

Rachel isn't sure what to make of this melancholy girl on the other end of the line. She's so unlike any other Quinn Rachel has encountered before, and she can't shake the feeling that something is very wrong. "I think I'd like to make my own decisions about that," Rachel says.

"You are one of the most frustratingly stubborn people I've ever met."

"It's a talent."

"And, you are very talented, aren't you?"

Rachel feels a small smile spread across her face. "Finally, she notices."

"I've always noticed, Rachel."

At the sound of her first name, Rachel has to look at her phone's screen to make sure the caller ID actually says Quinn Fabray.

It does.

Rachel's voice is shaky when she asks, "You have?"

"Oh, don't go shy on me now, Berry."

Rachel clears her throat. "I just like to hear it," she manages to say.

"Because you live for applause, huh?"

Rachel, honestly, is feeling overwhelmed by this entire conversation. She's really convinced she's talking to someone completely different to the person she's encountered on various occasions.

Why does Quinn even know that about her? How?

"I do," Rachel confirms.

"Well, I'll be - " Quinn starts and suddenly stops. "Shit, shit, Rachel, I have to go. I'll talk to you soon, okay? Bye."

There's a lot of shuffling on the line, something gets shouted, someone screams, something shatters, and then silence.

Rachel feels her heart jump into her throat, from fear and from something else entirely. Almost on instinct, she redials Quinn's number, only to have it go straight to voicemail.

She tries again.

And again.

She can feel her panic building, and she can't be sure why.

All she knows is that scream... that scream sounded frighteningly like Quinn.

* * *

It isn't as if Quinn expects anything different, but she's eventually going to run out of painkillers with the way she's been drinking them.

They're supposed to be for headaches and period pain, but they're now being used for bruised - she hopes they're not broken - ribs, split lips and swollen cheeks.

God, she's a sight.

Even if she wants to leave, she physically can't, and that's probably by design.

Quinn knows what this is. It's Russell stamping his authority, putting her in her place, so they won't have problems in the future.

She's not going anywhere.

Quinn can, maybe, accept that, if the man stays as far away from her as possible.

And, you know, buys her a new phone to replace the one he smashed to pieces.

It's been three days since that incident, and she's barely healed since then. Her mother brought in a fresh first aid kit, smiled sadly, and then left her to sort out her own injuries.

Mother of the year, people.

Right now, Quinn can do nothing more than read and write and try to plan for the moment she can actually get out of here.

She knows she'll have to pretend to submit to Russell's brand of parenting to be given any chance of seeing daylight. Calling the police is out of the question. She doesn't even have friends to call that could help her. What could they do, anyway? What could their parents do?

Quinn's on her own.

She's always been on her own.

The one good thing is that she's no longer locked in her room. She has the freedom to move around.

If she could move.

The best she can do is this:

Her laptop is propped on her legs as she reclines gingerly on her bed, pillows piled behind her to help keep her ribs steady, and she has _Facebook_ open to Rachel's profile.

Her latest post is staring at Quinn, almost mocking her.

**Finn Hudson** is with **Rachel Berry** at **Garden Thai Cafe**.  
_What are you doing for the rest of the year?  
__THIS_.

It's odd, Quinn thinks, that this girl can still do this to her.

Whatever this is.

All she knows is it hurts, and she's not sure she likes the reasons why.

* * *

Rachel feels... odd when Finn drops her off after their first dinner together of this latest attempt at a relationship.

No.

They're not in a relationship.

They're not even actually dating.

Rachel isn't willing to commit and, really, she thinks she deserves to play her cards close to her chest this time around. She knows she has to protect her heart, because Jesse, Finn and Noah have all treated it poorly.

There's also Quinn to think about, and Rachel doesn't know when or how the girl even dropped into the mix of her endless worries. The blonde has been on her mind a lot lately, and it really doesn't help that she hasn't been able to get through to her over the phone.

When it hits her, she feels like a complete idiot, because there are other ways to contact people.

Slipping through the front door, Rachel intends to rush up the stairs to log onto her computer, but her fathers catch her on her way, and she's forced to slink into the living room to answer their questions.

"So, how was it?"

Rachel drops into an armchair. "It was fine," she says.

Hiram and LeRoy exchange a look. "Just fine?" Hiram asks, curious.

Rachel sighs. "It feels different this time around," she carefully admits. "Like it's... dirty, somehow. Tainted." She shakes her head. "More than the last time, anyway."

"Why do you think that is?"

The first thought that comes to mind is Quinn, and her brow immediately furrows, because she never had any qualms about pursuing Finn before, even when he and the blonde were dating sophomore year.

"Honey?" Hiram ventures.

Rachel snaps to attention. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

"What's really on your mind?" LeRoy asks her.

Now, Rachel can't realistically tell them she's got another girl, her former bully and nemesis, sitting on her brain. She can't. She honestly can't.

What she can say is only this, which may or not prove to be her downfall: "A girl."

Neither man seems to react at first, but then LeRoy clears his throat and says, "Oh."

Hiram looks deeply uncomfortable. "Are you thinking about this girl for a specific reason?" he asks.

Rachel nods. "I'm worried about her," she confesses. "She's been sounding sad, lately, and she's missed the last days of school, and I can't get through to her on the phone."

"Have you tried _Facebook_?" Hiram asks, and Rachel flushes at the question, because she just thought of it tonight. "Maybe something happened to her phone."

The explanation is reasonable, but there's still something that feels off about the whole thing. "Probably," she says anyway, and she allows herself to submit to the directions her father has given her to contact Quinn.

"Is that all you've been thinking about this girl?" LeRoy asks, his tone careful.

Rachel wants to tell them the truth about her own confusing thoughts about a girl she really shouldn't be thinking about, but she needs to make more sense of it herself before she can.

So, she nods. "At the moment, yes," she says, leaving the door open for further discussion in the future.

"Okay, Sweetheart," LeRoy says, picking up on the dismissal.

Rachel just smiles at them both, grateful for their collective presence in her life, and then she excuses herself.

When she gets to her bedroom, she still feels unsettled, but less than she did when she first got home.

Maybe it's because she has a plan.

She immediately sits at her desk, logs onto _Facebook_, and moves to compose a message to Quinn Fabray.

She's worried.

She's beyond worried, actually, because the questions she's asked of the Glee Club have proven that nobody has heard from Quinn.

Nobody has bothered even to check on her.

**Rachel Berry**: _Quinn. Do you remember when I told you I'm going to worry, regardless of what you said? Well, this is my worrying, because your phone isn't going through and nobody's heard from you since we got back from New York. Please tell me you're okay._

The message, itself, doesn't really help with her growing concern, but it's the best she can do at this moment.

She gets up and sees to her nightly routine, trying not to think about Finn or Quinn, which is easy once her muscle memory kicks in.

What's twenty minutes later, she crawls into bed with her laptop to find a reply from Quinn, and her heart starts beating a little faster.

**Quinn Fabray**: _Rachel. I remember, though I still don't know why. You continually confuse me. Oh. Well, yes, my phone is currently out of commission, so it's not okay, but I am. Have you been trying to reach me? Is something wrong_?

Rachel wants nothing more than to talk to her; just call her up and hear her voice to be sure she's really okay.

But, this is the best she's going to get.

**Rachel Berry**: _Are you still awake? Go online_?

She waits three minutes and fourteen seconds before Quinn's chat window pops up, and she sees hazel eyes and blonde hair looking at her from a tiny thumbnail. She's surprised this is really the first time she's even paid any attention to Quinn's _Facebook_ profile.

She doesn't even remember when they became friends, and she makes a mental note to go through the girl's profile in the future.

**Quinn Fabray**: _Hey_.

Rachel sucks in a breath. Quinn hasn't said anything at all, really, but there's something oddly comforting and exciting to be found in knowing exactly what Quinn is doing at this very moment.

**Rachel Berry**: _Hey, back :) How are you? What happened to your phone?_

**Rachel Berry**: _And, yes, I've been trying to reach you. You missed the last days of school. I didn't get to wish you a good summer in person_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I told you I'm okay, Rachel. Why won't you believe me_?

**Quinn Fabray**: _My phone kind of broke during the move. I'm still working on getting a new one. You're the only person who's bothered to check in with me, anyway. Why is that? God, why do you care?_

Rachel almost expects Quinn to say something more, but she's obviously stopped typing when no new message comes through for a full minute.

**Rachel Berry**: _Would you believe you if you were me? I can't help my worry, Quinn. I just get the feeling something isn't right, and I want to help. Please let me_.

**Rachel Berry**: _Oh, no. I'm sorry about your phone. This is just a wonderful start to the summer for you, isn't it?_

**Rachel Berry**: _I care about you, Quinn. Of course, I care about you, and I'm definitely going to check in on you. Do you not want me to?_

**Quinn Fabray**: _I probably wouldn't believe you, no. I just don't need anyone in my business. I have it all under control. You'll be the first person I tell if I don't, okay? You're probably the only person who cares_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _Thank you_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I don't know. Sometimes, I don't think I deserve it._

It's odd, Rachel thinks, that Quinn is being this... open. She's being... kind. Self-deprecating. Grateful, almost.

_Something_.

Rachel isn't sure what to make of it. It's as if she's speaking to someone who isn't Quinn, and she wonders just how much this year has actually affected Quinn.

Goodness knows it's affected her in ways she doesn't even really yet know. She's still trying to figure it out.

She's still trying to wrap her head around a lot of things, and Quinn Fabray is one of those things.

**Rachel Berry**: _Well, then, you can't fault me for worrying. I promise I won't pry. I just want you to know you don't have to do it all by yourself, you know. You never have to thank me for checking in, Quinn. But, you're welcome, anyway_.

**Rachel Berry**: _Well, regardless of whether you think you deserve it or not, I believe you do. So, I'm going to keep asking after you, whether you like it or not._

Quinn's replies take a few minutes, and Rachel wonders if she's pushed too far. She has a habit of doing just that.

She's tempted to start pacing, but then Quinn is there again, her words causing a strange feeling in her chest that she's really not prepared to unpack at this point.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I think I'm done faulting you for anything, Rachel. You've proved to be a far superior person than I am. Who am I to tell you what to do? I think I'm done with that, to be honest. Nobody listens to me, anyway._

**Quinn Fabray**: _So, basically, I don't have a choice in the matter, huh?_

For her part, Rachel actually sucks in a breath at the sight of her first name. Obviously, it doesn't have the same effect as Quinn actually _saying_ it, but the fact she typed it out at all is doing weird things to Rachel.

**Rachel Berry**: _You always have a choice, Quinn. And, I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You've tried to turn things around. I know it hasn't been easy, and you've faced some obstacles along the way, but you should be proud_.

**Rachel Berry**: _I can't even pretend I'm one of those who listens to you, because I'm not. I can be awfully stubborn. Still, you should know, if ever you just need to talk, about anything at all, I'm here_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _You're ridiculous, did you know that? How can you be so forgiving, so nice? I hurt you. I SLAPPED you. How do you even look past that?_

And, for the first time, Rachel realises Quinn is asking very specifically about the _violence_ behind her action. It makes something ugly twist in her gut, because it's as if Quinn is almost desperate for the answer; the path to forgive the one who has hurt _her_.

**Rachel Berry**: _I can assure you I've been called far worse things. I can forgive you, because I can see how sorry you are. You're torturing yourself over this more than enough for the both of us. I can forgive you, because you obviously regret it. We were caught in a moment, and I've been known to say and do spontaneous things, in the moment. You didn't see your face, Quinn. I did. I can forgive you, and I have. Please, please forgive yourself_.

Rachel wishes they were having this conversation in person. For a crazy moment, she wishes she were able to hug Quinn right now, and reassure her that she doesn't blame her for anything. They're okay. She's forgiven.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry_.

**Rachel Berry**: _I know you are. I know, Quinn. Say it as many times as YOU need to, but know that I've forgiven you_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I should probably get to bed. It's getting late_.

Rachel glances at the clock. It's just past nine o'clock, and she really doesn't think Quinn goes to bed that early. Still, she allows the girl this reprieve.

**Rachel Berry**: _Are you sure you're going to be okay?_

**Quinn Fabray**: _Maybe some sleep will do me good_.

**Rachel Berry**: _Okay, then. Goodnight, Quinn, sleep well :)_

**Quinn Fabray**: _Ditto, Berry X_

Rachel can't help smiling to herself, because _that's_ the Quinn she knows all too well. It's a relief to know she's still in there, even if that Quinn has been responsible for some really horrible moments in Rachel's life.

Still.

Rachel will take any kind of Quinn she can get, and that's one of the most terrifying thoughts she's ever had.

* * *

While she's in the house, Quinn doesn't bother hiding her injuries. She walks around in denim shorts and a tank top, maybe to remind her father what he's done, as well as to show her mother just what she's let back into their house.

They're slow to heal, and Russell constantly glances at them. Quinn wonders if he's proud of his handiwork.

Judy barely even looks at her.

It's... whatever.

Obviously, Quinn isn't going anywhere, but her bags remain packed.

This isn't her home.

It'll never be, so long as _he's_ here.

"Here."

Quinn glances up from the book she's reading, to see her father set a small white box on her desk.

"It's a phone," Russell says. "Be careful with it."

Quinn just stares at him.

"You're my daughter," he says. "It's my job to watch out for you, and I've obviously failed you in the past. I intend to keep a closer eye on you."

It's a thinly-veiled threat, but she hears it.

"I want to know where you are at all times," he says. "You are not to spend time with any boys I have not approved. In fact, it's preferable you not spend time with any boys, at all. Your focus should be on school and church. You're going to get into Harvard, and you're going to carry the Fabray name from where you flushed it down the toilet."

Quinn clenches her jaw.

"Do we understand each other?"

Quinn waits a beat, and then she nods once.

"Good," he says, and then he leaves the room as silently as he entered it.

Quinn focuses on her breathing for a moment, trying to get her head wrapped around the reality of her life. She could probably get through the next year, maybe, but what happens after that?

What happens when she doesn't go to Harvard?

What happens when she does talk to some boy, and actually manages to fall in love... for the first time in her life?

What happens if she doesn't check in on time?

What happens to Quinn, then?

With a sigh, Quinn gets to her feet and moves towards her desk. It's obvious the phone has already been setup. Her father asked for her Apple ID, just for this purpose, and he went in to get her service provider reinstated for her.

The first thing she's going to do is change her password.

Quinn doesn't really know what to expect when she finally connects. For some reason, she has this thought that she'll have texts and missed calls from several people, but she doesn't.

Well, only from Rachel, which makes her feel an entire host of confusing feelings that make her heart rate rise.

Quinn doesn't want to deal with those feelings, so she just changes her password, locks her phone, and then returns to her book, doing her very best not to focus on the fact the only person who even cared she was M.I.A. is Rachel Berry.

* * *

It's two days later that Rachel's fathers ask her about the girl again.

They bring it up at the dinner table, both of them noting how distracted she seems, even as she pretends to eat the vegetable bake on her plate.

"Did you manage to get in contact with her?" Hiram asks.

Rachel presses her lips together, visibly thinking. "I did," she finally says.

"And?"

"It really hasn't helped with my worry," she confesses, keeping her eyes on her plate. "Something is wrong. She's never been like this before."

"Like what?"

Rachel sighs, because she really doesn't know how to explain it. "_Sorry_," she says.

"Excuse me?"

"She's never been... sorry before," Rachel says.

It's obvious her fathers don't understand what she's saying, but she doesn't bother to clear it up. Quinn is too... apologetic for any of this to be okay. _She's_ not okay, and Rachel gets the feeling something is forcing these feelings out of her.

LeRoy clears his throat. "And, how's Finn?" he asks.

Rachel winces. "He's... fine," she says. "We're taking things slow, I guess. I'm still on the fence about whether I actually want to date him again."

"Because of this girl?"

Rachel's eyes snap up. "What?" she asks. "No. What? Nothing like that."

LeRoy holds out a hand to calm her. "Sweetheart, it's okay," he says. "We're not saying anything. We're just trying to understand; trying to help."

Rachel shakes her head, because her hesitance has nothing to do with Quinn, does it? She doesn't owe Quinn anything. They're - they're not even friends.

The two of them have been fighting over Finn for so long, and Rachel has finally... won.

Only, the prize is... unsatisfactory. Not what she thought she wanted.

Rachel didn't really think past getting Finn back, and being in New York shifted things into perspective.

_That's_ what changed.

New York was presented to her, and she wants it. She's not going to give it up for anyone.

Especially not Finn.

"It's not about her," Rachel finally says, and, God, she doesn't even believe her own words as she says them. "It's not."

Even if it is, she reasons, it's not because - because -

It's not what her fathers think, obviously.

Rachel doesn't _like_ Quinn.

She doesn't even like her in, really, any way. They're not friends. They're barely acquaintances.

But, God, Rachel cares far too much about a girl she claims she doesn't like in any way.

She sucks in a breath. "_Dads_," she whispers, because this isn't happening.

It's definitely not happening.

LeRoy gets to his feet, and moves to hug her, because she looks as if she's having one of those realisations that might result in tears.

It does.

Rachel starts crying moments later, and she doesn't even know why. This entire year has just been so difficult, and her emotions have been on a roller coaster, and now Quinn is being nice to her, and it's just confusing everything.

Why does Quinn get to do _this_ to her?

LeRoy eventually pulls back to look at her face. "Are you okay?"

"No," she says. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

LeRoy kisses her forehead. "You don't have to do anything, Sweetheart," he says. "You don't have to say or do or be anything, okay? Sometimes, you can just care about another girl."

Hiram nods. "I care about girls all the time," he quips.

Rachel lets out a watery laugh. "Dad."

"What?" he says, all innocence. "It's true. The ladies love me."

LeRoy swats his head. "Shut up," he says. "Your daughter is having a moment, and here you are with your idiocies."

Hiram pouts, even as Rachel reaches out to pat his hand.

"Thank you, Dad," she says, and then looks at LeRoy. "I think I'm fine," she offers. "Or, I will be. I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"I don't have to do anything," she says. "Right?"

"Absolutely nothing," LeRoy assures her. "Do you want to talk about it some more?"

"No."

"Should I make an appointment with Dr Ramsay?"

"God, no," she says. "This isn't some kind of crisis, is it? I don't need a therapist, Daddy. I just need some... time to wrap my head around it."

"Around what?"

And, really, the fact that Rachel can't say it out loud tells them all something very important.

Rachel sighs. "Okay, I think I'm going to have to talk to Dr Ramsay."

* * *

It doesn't help with Rachel's own confusing feelings to get back to her bedroom to find a series of texts from Quinn that throws everything into the forefront of her mind.

**Quinn Fabray**: _Hey. So, I got a new phone. We don't have to talk on Facebook anymore, like we have the past few days. I mean, we can, or we can't. If you want to talk at all. It's not like a necessity. I'm sure you're busy_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _God, I sound pathetic_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _Forget I said anything. Please ignore me._

Before Rachel knows what's happening, she's smiling. Her fingers start to type a response immediately, but she doesn't really know what to say.

So, she dials Quinn's number, and then holds her breath.

"Hello," Quinn answers, a little hesitant.

Rachel lets out the breath she's holding. "Hey," she says. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, and how are you?"

Rachel smiles to herself, because she's really not okay. Not at all, in fact, because she's been dealing with some very intense revelations. About herself, and about her life. Her wants and desires. Her comforts.

It's been a complicated few hours.

"I'm good," she lies.

Quinn is quiet for a moment. "Have you been crying?"

Her eyes widen. "What?"

"You sound as if you've been crying," Quinn points out.

"How could you even know that?"

"I think, out of everyone in the world, I would be the one to know how you sound when you've been crying," she says. "I've made you do it enough times, haven't I?"

"Quinn," she breathes. "You're really not the monster you believe you are."

Quinn ignores her. "Why have you been crying?"

"I - " she starts, and then stops. "Have you ever just had a moment, when the entire world kind of just shifts, and you're left with this new reality, and it's frightening and you don't really know what to do or how to deal with it?"

The silence that follows is charged, and then Quinn very quietly says, "Yes."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "Really?"

Quinn sighs on the other end of the line, and Rachel has never actually felt closer to Quinn than in this moment. "It just - it makes sense to me." She pauses. "Especially now."

"What does that mean?"

"Rachel?"

She closes her eyes, because Quinn is using her first name, and the way it sounds in that voice is... well, she doesn't really know how to explain the quickening of her heart rate or the way she suddenly can't catch her breath.

"Rachel, are you there?"

She clears her throat, snapping to attention. "I'm here," she says. "Sorry."

"I know I'm probably the last person you'd even want to talk to about what's bothering you, but, um, I'm kind of here, too."

"Kind of?"

Quinn lets out this amused breath that makes Rachel squirm. "Over the phone, at least," she says.

"I don't get to see you?"

Quinn hesitates. "Uh..."

"Aren't you going to Kurt's pool party?"

"No."

"Oh?"

Quinn hums. "I'm not really feeling up for it," she says. "Too many people."

And, Rachel understands that.

"Also, I'm pretty sure everyone would have more fun without me there to dampen the mood."

"That's not true," Rachel immediately counters.

"Be serious, Rachel."

She takes a breath. "When did you start calling me Rachel?"

"What?"

"You're calling me Rachel," she says. "I can't quite pinpoint when it started."

"Neither can I," Quinn confesses. "Is it a big deal?"

"_Huge_."

Quinn lets out a little laugh. "Would you rather I not?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I thought you were the ridiculous one here."

"We can be ridiculous together," Rachel offers, and she almost rolls her eyes at herself.

Quinn just breathes for a moment, and Rachel has never been so fascinated by the sound of someone breathing before. "I'd like that," Quinn whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Quinn can't explain it.

The more she thinks about it, the more it doesn't make sense to her.

All she knows is that, when she wakes the morning after her phone call with Rachel, she feels calm. Settled. Even a little happy. She's smiling.

God, what is wrong with her?

It also really doesn't help that Rachel sent her a morning text. An actual _good morning, Quinn, I hope you have a great day (being ridiculous)_.

Even though Quinn rolls her, eyes, her smile is wide as she types a reply back, absently dragging herself out of bed and gingerly getting to her feet.

**Quinn Fabray**: _Good morning to you, too, Rachel :) I don't really have much planned for the day, to be honest. What are you up to? I need some ridiculous ideas._

She definitely can't explain the way her heart literally pounds as she sets her phone on her nightstand and starts to get ready for the day. She has to see to her injuries, changing dressings and applying salve to the areas that need it.

Quinn puts on a dress because she can. It's not as if she's going to be going anywhere today.

Even as the thought crosses her mind, her phone sounds, and she has to stop herself from leaping for it - because she's calm, and she's a little bit in pain.

**Rachel Berry**: _Well, Quinn, I'm planning on putting together a scrapbook of the year as a whole. It's what I do at the end of every school year; kind of a little project of mine. Would you like to help me_?

Quinn bites her bottom lip, because that sounds like something she would actually like to be doing. With Rachel. It's a desire that catches her off guard, and her palms start to sweat, because _what is happening?_

She glances at her arms, wincing at the green bruising. Her legs aren't any better, and she wouldn't even know how to explain this all to Rachel if they were to see each other in person.

With a sigh, she begins to type.

**Quinn Fabray**: _That doesn't sound all that ridiculous to me. It's pretty cool, actually. I can't really do today, though. Maybe next week, some time. Unless you're a superwoman, I assume scrapbooking is time-consuming?_

**Rachel Berry**: _I AM Superwoman. How did you know? Who revealed my secret identity_?

Quinn laughs to herself, because this is a side of Rachel she didn't even know existed. She's a little mad at herself for never actually taking the time to get to know Rachel this way, earlier.

There's less pressure now, she thinks. She's not Head Cheerleader anymore, and she's not desperately trying to hold onto some boyfriend or even hide some life-altering secret.

Right now, Quinn is just a girl.

Talking to another girl.

What it means, Quinn can't explain. She's never really had friends to talk to. She tried texting Santana, but it went unanswered. She doesn't think Brittany knows how to work her own phone most of the time, and Mercedes' two responses were enough to let Quinn know she was being a bother.

There's nobody else.

Just Rachel.

And, for some reason she really can't explain, Quinn is oddly okay with that.

* * *

Rachel glances at her phone for the fifteenth time in the last ten minutes, and she tries not to look disappointed when her screen is blank.

While she knew Quinn wasn't coming to Kurt's pool party - Finn might also live here, but it's really Kurt's party, and they all know it - she was kind of hoping the blonde would surprise her.

Or, them.

It's not really about her, she likes to think, but she likes to believe she and Quinn are... building something.

A friendship.

That's what it is.

They've talked on the phone every night this week. It's been hours of endless conversation, and Rachel hardly believes she's been talking to Quinn Fabray.

This Quinn on the phone is funny and playful and witty, and Rachel just wants to lay eyes on her to be sure she's actually real. She wants her to be real. It frightens her, because this is Quinn and there's no way she would even -

Rachel's phone buzzes in her hand, and she almost spills her drink from the surprise. She chuckles softly to herself, glances around to see nobody has noticed - not even Finn, who's been watching her since she arrived - and then looks at her phone.

**Quinn Fabray**: _Are you having fun yet_?

Rachel rolls her eyes as she sets her drink on the patio table. There's conversation going on all around her, but she's not really interested in what anyone other than Quinn is saying.

Rachel decides to bite the bullet, because Quinn hasn't really shied away from anything they've talked about so far, which includes topics such as adoption, homosexuality and religion.

So, she's only a little nervous when she starts to type.

**Rachel Berry**: _Not really. I would be if you were here_.

She means it. God, does she mean it.

**Quinn Fabray**: _What would we be doing if I were_?

**Rachel Berry**: _Well, I would definitely be talking to you. Face-to-face. And, then, I guess we would eat something. Maybe catch a swim. Noah and Mike are currently trying to convince Tina that there's an alligator in the deep end of the pool. I shouldn't admit this, but it's always been an irrational fear of mine._

**Quinn Fabray**: _Rachel, there are no alligators in the pool. I promise_.

**Rachel Berry**: _That actually makes me feel a lot better_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I thought it would_.

**Rachel Berry**: _Aren't we smug_?

**Quinn Fabray**: _Maybe we can hang out tomorrow? I don't have anything going on, and I'm quite keen to see your scrapbooking progress_.

Rachel perks up for a beat, until she remembers she already has plans to go into Columbus with Kurt and Mercedes. She's sorely tempted to cancel with them, because she needs to see Quinn, but -

With a sigh, she starts to type.

**Rachel Berry**: _I can't do tomorrow. God, this sucks. Sunday_?

**Quinn Fabray**: _Church_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _Don't worry about it. We'll find another day_.

Rachel wants nothing more than to tell Quinn she'll happily drive over to her house right now. Laying eyes on Quinn feels like a desperate need, and she has to satisfy it soon.

**Rachel Berry**: _Monday_?

**Quinn Fabray**: _Sure, Berry, we'll do Monday. Now, stop talking to me, and actually try to have some fun_.

**Rachel Berry**: _Impossible without you here, but I'll try_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _X_

* * *

Despite what she tells herself, Quinn still goes through _Facebook_ to see how much fun her supposed friends did or didn't have at Kurt's pool party. The invitation, itself, came through as a _Facebook Event_, and Quinn clicked 'Not Attending.'

Nobody commented on her absence.

It's sobering, she accepts, to be popular but have no friends. She doesn't think she's at the levels of popularity she once was, but it's lonely wherever she is: top or bottom.

It's just lonely.

She shudders to think of what the first few weeks of her summer would be like without Rachel. The girl is kind of like her saviour, at this point, and Quinn isn't shying away from it.

Which is why it makes things like this hurt.

While Quinn convinces herself she wanted Rachel to have fun at the pool party, there's a selfish part of her that wishes the brunette actually didn't. Quinn wants to be missed. It's childish, she knows, but the pictures tell a tale of a very enjoyable afternoon and evening.

It's really one picture of Rachel in denim shorts and her bikini top, with Finn's arm around her shoulders, that makes Quinn want to throw her laptop across the room.

For several reasons, really.

The first is to do with Finn. The jealousy is so misplaced, that Quinn is surprised by how visceral it is. She doesn't want to be Rachel in the picture; she wants to be _Finn_.

The second is to do with Rachel, and the moment the thought _has Rachel always been that hot?_ crosses her mind, Quinn slams her laptop closed and has an actual, bona fide panic attack.

And, the third, which terrifies her to no end, is that she ends up answering her own question - _yes, Quinn, she's always been that hot, but you haven't really noticed until right now_ \- and then she bursts into tears.

Because -

Because, this can't be happening.

But, it is, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Especially not when Rachel does things like this:

**Rachel Berry**: _Good morning, Quinn, I hope you slept well. I can't even explain to you how excited I am to see you tomorrow. I even asked my Daddy to buy those bacon-flavoured crisps I remember you inhaling while you were pregnant. It's going to be awesome! Enjoy church, and I will talk to you later :*_

Quinn can't really remember when Rachel started using the kiss emoji, but it always makes her heart rate pick up, and she's starting to realise why.

No.

She's just confused, surely.

Rachel is the only one paying her any attention, and it's almost expected she would develop... some kind of affection towards the girl. Right?

It's what she repeatedly tells herself as she sends off a quick reply, and then proceeds to get ready for church. It's really the first time she's even going to be leaving the house, because she's now able to wear summer clothing without attracting unwanted attention.

There's still a lot of discolouration on her abdomen and back, but her arms and legs are... fine. She knows her parents expect her in her Sunday best, and she manages to focus on that until her mother knocks on her bedroom door to call her down to breakfast.

* * *

It's tense.

Quinn is distracted, mainly because she's coming to realise some very sobering truths about herself, but also because she just realised she's gong to be spending the entire next day with the apparent object of her affection.

"I expect you to be on your best behaviour," Russell suddenly says, and Quinn's head snaps up. "Both of you."

Quinn glances at her mother, who is sitting primly in her seat, hands perfectly still.

"Speak only when spoken to," Russell instructs. "Don't embarrass me more than you already have."

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes, because he's embarrassed himself enough already.

"We've been invited over to the Woodward home for lunch," Russell says. "Am I to assume you still remember how to behave in esteemed company?"

Quinn realises he's asking her the question, and she nods. No use angering him so early in the morning. Maybe she'll even be able to have a conversation with someone other than her parents or Rachel.

* * *

Church, itself, isn't the problem.

They arrive with moments to spare before the start of the service, slip into a pew near the back, and sit quietly.

Despite everything, Quinn still believes in God, and she still has Faith. It's the one thing getting her through, really - and Rachel - and she likes to think all the world has thrown at her is just a test.

A never-ending, soul-crushing test.

She thinks, maybe, she's failed, but she's still here, and that must count for something, right?

Quinn is astutely aware of people staring from time to time, but she's so focused on the Reverend's words and her own prayers to pay attention to them. It's a talent she's picked up over the years, and she uses it to full effect.

So, being in the church is the easy part. It's what comes after that is... horrible. She can tell that people are judging her, and there are not-so-subtle glances at her flat stomach, where a baby once lived. Nobody is actually saying anything, but their eyes are loud.

Russell places a strong hand on her shoulder. "Let's go," he says, and then leads her to the car.

The drive to the Woodward residence is made in silence, and Quinn wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole, so that she won't have to deal with what's to come.

She has just enough time to check her phone to see a text from Rachel, and she's forced to hide her smile by ducking her head, her breathing quickening.

**Rachel Berry**: _Don't laugh. I just had to take out the trash and, when I lifted the bag, the bottom fell apart completely. Trash, trash everywhere. God, it was gross. I think I need a shower after all of that. Hope your morning's going better than mine :*_

Quinn has the sudden urge to see her. Just, to see her face, maybe touch her, just to be sure she's real. These... feelings are threatening to get the better of her, and she thinks she needs to spend time with Rachel, maybe get annoyed with the girl, and then everything will be fine.

Everything will go back to normal.

They'll just be... kind of friends. Who talk endlessly, and who share all sorts of secrets and who say things like this:

**Quinn Fabray**: _I'm not laughing, I promise, even though I want to. Look at how I've grown ;) I think that kind of thing can happen to only you, Rachel. You're very special._

**Quinn Fabray**_: Well, I'd say my day just got better :P_

Quinn lets out a breath when she sends the messages, and then blanches when she reads them over, because there's something just so innocently teasing about the messages.

It's almost... flirtatious.

Well.

Without waiting for a reply, she pockets her phone and tries to get into the correct headspace to put on the right kind of show for her father. For Russell.

Who's to say what'll happen if she ends up saying the wrong thing?

* * *

A lot, apparently, because the answer to the question _what are your plans for after graduation?_ is seemingly not _I'm still not sure, Sir_, and rather _Harvard for Pre-Law, Sir_.

Quinn won't be making the mistake again of thinking anything she would have said throughout the meal wouldn't have resulted in this... outcome.

Any answer to any question could have triggered this response, and Quinn really should know better.

She just can't seem to get anything right.


	2. Kiss Quick

**Part Two**

**Kiss Quick**

* * *

Rachel won't really admit it to anyone, but she gets very close to crying when Quinn texts to cancel their Monday escapades late on Sunday night. She's been looking forward to seeing the blonde since... New York, really, and now she's going to have to wait even longer.

Without thinking about it too much, Rachel immediately dials Quinn's number and, four rings later, the quietest voice answers with a timid, "Hello."

Rachel's heart twists in her chest, because Quinn doesn't sound... okay. "Quinn?"

Quinn clears her throat. "Hey," she says, a little louder. "How are you?"

"You're not coming," Rachel says, and, if she whines a bit, she doesn't even care.

Quinn sighs. "I'm sorry," she says. "I just - I just can't."

Rachel can hear something very specific in her voice, and it makes her paranoid. Quinn actually _can't_, and it has nothing to do with whether or not she _wants_ to or not.

"Did something happen?" Rachel finds herself asking.

Quinn's voice is barely a whisper when she says, "I don't want to lie to you. Please don't ask me about it."

"Oh, Quinn."

"Please."

Rachel sighs. "Okay," she finally relents. "Just, know that I don't like it, and I'm here. No matter what it is, I'm not going anywhere."

"God, I don't know what I ever did to deserve you," Quinn says, and her voice is full of disbelief.

"It's not about deserving anything, Quinn," Rachel says. "If it was, I think the entire world would be out of sorts. If you have to do something to deserve the good things, then how do you explain the bad things?"

"I'm not a good person," Quinn states; "so I must deserve it all."

"Don't say that," she immediately counters. "You've made mistakes, and you've done things, but they don't make you not a good person. I've also done things I'm not proud of, and I don't regard myself as a bad person."

"You're not," Quinn interjects. "You're honestly the best person I know."

Rachel full-on blushes at the sound of that, which is something of a new development, because Quinn has now started saying all these things. "I don't know about that," she tries.

"No," Quinn says. "You're great, Rachel. The greatest. You deserve all the good things this life has to offer."

And, God, Rachel can't stop herself from asking, "Does that include you?"

Quinn is quiet for a moment, "I'm not a g - "

"Don't you dare, Fabray," Rachel says, and she surprises herself with how stern her voice sounds.

Quinn lets out a tired laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"Answer my question."

"Yes," Quinn finally breathes. "It includes me."

"Good," Rachel says, and her blush hasn't once dissipated.

* * *

Getting Quinn to agree to a day to visit proves to be more difficult than Rachel anticipates. It's not unheard of that Quinn would be reluctant, but Rachel gets the impression Quinn is more irritated by her own lack of commitment than Rachel is.

If she can go on the number of times Quinn apologises, that is.

It's an entire week of texts and phone calls, during which Rachel forces herself not to ask about the reasons behind Quinn's reluctance, when Rachel asks, "Are you going to Noah's party on Tuesday?"

"No."

Rachel sighs. "When do I get to see you?" she asks, almost whining.

"Next weekend," Quinn finally says, making an executive decision. Her father better not come anywhere near her between now and then. "Friday or Saturday."

Rachel immediately perks up. "Would it be terribly inappropriate to say both?"

Quinn laughs softly. "No, it wouldn't," she says. "Are we talking a sleepover here?"

"Is that something that's on the cards?" Rachel asks, trying not to sound giddy at the mere idea of spending the night with Quinn.

"Maybe we'll play it by ear," Quinn says. "You might get sick of me after spending all of Friday with me."

"Funny," Rachel muses; "I was just worrying about the same thing in regards to me."

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

"Indeed, we are."

Quinn clears her throat. "So, you're going to Noah's party?"

Rachel licks her lips. "I am," she says, and it sounds like a confession. "Finn... asked, and I said yes."

"Oh."

Rachel closes her eyes, suddenly wishing she never said anything.

"Are - are you two dating?" Quinn asks, and Rachel doesn't miss the tremble in her voice. What does that mean?

"No," Rachel says, and it's the truth. "We're not dating."

"But, you want to?"

"_He_ definitely wants to."

Quinn is hesitant when she asks, "But, not you?"

Rachel can't give a definitive answer to that question. She doesn't want to rule out the possibility completely, but she also doesn't want to commit, because, well, because _Quinn_.

There's nothing more to say beyond that.

"I haven't yet decided," Rachel finally says.

"What's there to decide?" Quinn asks, and she sounds genuinely curious. "We spent all this time fighting over him. I don't understand why you're hesitating."

"Do you want me to date him?"

Quinn sucks in a breath, and then very quietly says, "No."

"Because you still like him?"

When Quinn says, "No," Rachel suddenly knows she's really not the only one feeling all of this. "Not because of him, Rachel." Her voice is so low, so _revealing_. It's as if she's just... giving in. "Sometimes, I get the feeling it's never really been about him at all."

"Quinn?"

There's an intake of a sharp breath, and then Quinn says, "I should go."

"No, wait."

"They're calling me to dinner," Quinn says. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Rachel starts to reply, but she's met with a dropped call, and she really knows that they should be having these kinds of conversations face-to-face.

Whatever conversation that is.

It takes her a moment, replaying the end of her conversation with Quinn, and her brow furrows when she recalls Quinn saying, '_They're_ calling me to dinner.'

They?

As far as Rachel's aware, Quinn lives with only her mother.

Right?

She immediately dials Quinn back, but she receives no answer, which is expected.

* * *

What isn't expected is Quinn ignoring her for the next few days, which, yeah, really hurts.

It's part and parcel of Quinn Fabray, she knows, but every text that goes without reply and every call that remains unanswered brings tears to her eyes.

She doesn't actually cry, but she does brood about it enough that her fathers even ask her about it, and she doesn't know what to say to them.

How does she tell her fathers that the girl she maybe has feelings for - and maybe has feelings for her as well - is none other than Quinn Fabray? Or that the two of them may or may not be diving into a potential conversation about it?

"It's the girl," Rachel eventually says, sighing. "She - I think - I think she might have told me she... doesn't want me to date Finn."

Her fathers exchange a look, and then Hiram asks, "Did she give you a reason why?"

Rachel shakes her head. "I think she revealed more than she initially intended to, and she might have freaked herself out because of it. She's kind of been ignoring me ever since." She sighs. "I mean, I get it. I understand, of course, but it just... sucks."

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," LeRoy says, understanding beyond measure just what it's like to hide from such scary truths.

Rachel smiles sadly. "In the mean time, I'm going to go out with Finn tomorrow, because I still care about him. I mean, I like him. I don't know if I... love him, after everything we've been through, but - "

"You're young," LeRoy says. "Go out, have fun, kiss all the frogs."

Rachel lets out a small laugh. "The problem, Daddy, is that she's _already_ a princess."

LeRoy smiles. "She's pretty, then?"

"Like you wouldn't even believe."

LeRoy chuckles. "So, what you're saying is that you're pretty much screwed?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, but she is.

She really, really is.

* * *

Rachel sends a single text to Quinn on Tuesday evening, and then puts her phone on silent and pockets it, before she heads downstairs to wait for Finn to fetch her.

She's nervous, but also not.

It's not really a date.

It's just the two of them attending a party, together. There are no expectations. She doesn't even plan on drinking... much.

When they arrive, she allows Noah to make her a drink, and she nurses it for the next ninety minutes while she makes the rounds. Finn leaves her to play Call of Duty in the basement seventeen minutes in, and she's oddly relieved by it. Finding ways to hold his attention can be exhausting.

She eventually makes her way to the kitchen where she finds Kurt and Blaine getting themselves some drinks. Kurt perks up when he sees her, and then he starts up a conversation about New York.

It's easy to lose herself in talk of the future, and she's vaguely aware of Sam and Mercedes joining them, and then Santana and Brittany... and Artie.

Rachel doesn't know how they get to the topic of hair - she thinks Mercedes mentions her mother is debating over getting a weave or a wig - but Santana casually brings up Quinn's haircut, and Rachel can't help snapping to attention at the sound of the blonde's name.

"I like the look on her," Kurt says. "It suits her."

Rachel takes a breath, and then asks, "Have any of you seen Quinn this summer?"

They all fall to silence, each of them looking at one another.

Rachel looks at Santana. "Surely, you've seen her?" Nothing. "You've at least talked to her, right?"

For a moment, Santana's face flashes with guilt, before she manages to school her features. "We're obviously not cool enough for her," she says, feigning indifference. "I mean, where is she, huh?"

Rachel narrows her eyes, and then looks at Mercedes. "You must have heard from her?"

Mercedes shrugs. "She texted at the start of summer," she says, sounding far too casual. "It wasn't anything important."

Rachel wants to yell at them, because Quinn has been struggling with something all summer, and nobody even knows what. Quinn feels all alone, and her supposed friends don't even seem to care.

Involuntarily, her fists clench, and Kurt eyes her critically. She just shakes her head, even as Santana asks, "What do you even care?" She practically scoffs. "I would've thought you'd want her out of the way to make your move on the human giraffe."

Rachel waits a beat, and then stalks out of the kitchen, absently acknowledging Kurt calling her name. She keeps walking, moving through the house and weaving through various bodies.

She feels like she can finally breathe when she steps out into the backyard, and her heart is pounding. She doesn't want Quinn out of the way. She wants Quinn here; right here with her, next to her, around her.

She wants _her_.

Before long, Rachel takes out her phone, and gasps at the sight of seven texts from Quinn.

**Quinn Fabray**: _So, I had a dream today that I was walking in Central Park. It was snowing, but I wasn't feeling cold, even though all I was wearing was a white dress. It took me a while to realise it was a wedding dress. I was on my way to my wedding. I was getting married_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _To be honest, I haven't really thought about getting married, finding some kind of happily ever after, in such a long time. But, talking to you has made me think I deserve it, maybe_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I should get to be happy_. _With whomever I want_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I'm sorry, Rachel. I know I'm a difficult person to get to know, and I honestly am trying to be better, but our last conversation scared me. I don't know if you really heard what I was saying, and I'm kind of hoping you didn't, so we can have a proper face-to-face talk about it_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _If you even want to, of course. I don't know if you're actually still speaking to me or not, but I hope you are. I would really like to explain myself._

**Quinn Fabray**: _I don't want to freak you out or anything, but you're going to look beautiful on your wedding day_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I hope you're having fun tonight. Stay safe X_

Rachel is thinking a lot of things, and feelings a hell of a lot more, but her fingers move automatically, quickly dialling Quinn's number.

It rings twice, before a breathless Quinn says, "Hey."

Rachel waits a beat. "Can you come get me?"

Quinn hesitates. "I'll be there in ten."

* * *

Rachel mentions only to Kurt that she's leaving, and he questions her about it until she tells him she called her fathers to come and fetch her.

"What should I tell Finn?" Kurt asks.

Rachel almost rolls her eyes, because Finn is already passed out on a couch in the living room. "Just tell him I went home," she says.

Kurt nods. "Are you okay?" he asks, slurring slightly. "You seemed a little tense earlier."

"I'm fine," she lies, and then backs away. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?" And then she bolts from the room, exiting the house and stepping out into the cool air. Her eyes scan the street, as if Quinn would magically appear.

She sort of does.

A red Bug pulls up in front of the house, and Rachel practically skips towards it, because this is the first time she's going to see Quinn in weeks, and she can barely handle herself.

Quinn unlocks the door, and then Rachel is climbing into the passenger's seat and turning her body to face the girl who's occupied her mind for longer than she would like to admit.

"Hey," Rachel breathes, her eyes eyes taking in the sight before her. Quinn is wearing grey sweatpants and a white _Panic! At the Disco_ t-shirt. Her hair is in a tiny, messy ponytail, and she's wearing glasses.

She's wearing_ glasses_.

_Jesus_.

"Hey," Quinn whispers, looking a little unsure. "Are you okay?"

Rachel nods.

"Where to?"

"Do you think we could just drive around for a little while?"

Quinn smiles softly, and then shifts the car into gear, easily taking off down the road. They drive in silence for a full minute before Quinn speaks. "Do you want to listen to the radio?" she asks. "Or, my _iPod_ is in the console there."

Rachel busies herself with Quinn's _iPod_, searching through the songs. She believes a person's choice of music tells a lot about them, and she absently decides on some Emeli Sande, just to have something playing.

Quinn has a wide selection of songs, crossing various genres, and Rachel can't help glancing at her every time she comes across an unexpected song.

"I like this song," Quinn suddenly says, smiling slightly as _Clown_ comes on.

Rachel almost doesn't believe her own self when her mouth opens and says, "I like you."

Quinn gasps softly, but otherwise says and does nothing.

Rachel sits perfectly still, her heart beating way too loudly and much too fast. Did she just say that out loud? Did she really just say those words? To Quinn, no less?

It's as the song is ending that Quinn reaches out to take hold of her left hand and brings it to rest it with hers, clasped, on her right thigh.

She just holds it there.

Rachel wonders if Quinn can feel her heart racing through her palm, because _Quinn is holding her hand_.

They're holding hands.

It's anything and everything, and Rachel shifts her hand slightly, and Quinn absently links their fingers. The world suddenly feels less scary, which is completely ridiculous, but Rachel feels something warm spread through her entire body.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks again.

Rachel sighs, almost dreamily. "Tell me more about this dream," she says.

Quinn lets out a little laugh. "It wasn't much, you know," she says. "Just a dress and a girl and a park."

"Quinn."

She lifts Rachel's hand and gently kisses her knuckles, which makes Rachel's skin tingle. "I don't want to freak you out," she murmurs against Rachel's skin.

A shiver runs up Rachel's arm, and travels down her spine. "I think I'll be fine," she assures.

"Reckon I've freaked out enough for the both of us?"

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

"In this dream," Rachel starts; "Did my wedding happen to coincide with yours?"

Quinn hesitates for only a moment. "Yes."

Rachel squeezes Quinn's fingers, but chooses to say nothing.

For the next four songs, Quinn drives and Rachel hums along to the music. There's something so calming about this moment, and Rachel wants to bottle it up and keep it forever. Who knows what's going to happen when the car comes to a stop, and they're forced to get out and face reality?

"I want to suggest getting ice cream," Quinn says; "but I honestly don't know where you even get the vegan variety, particularly at this time of night."

Rachel giggles softly. "It's okay."

"Is it?" she asks, and it's as if she's asking a completely different question.

"It is," Rachel confirms, and then does the thing and leans across the centre console to press a chaste kiss to Quinn's cheek, internally revelling in the way Quinn's skin blooms in a deep blush. "Obviously, we have quite a bit to talk about, but I'd really just like to keep driving around with you, right now."

Quinn glances at her. "Okay," she says. "We can do that."

* * *

"I like you, too, by the way," Quinn says, five songs later.

She whispers it, really, and Rachel wouldn't hear her if any song other than Sleeping At Last's _Saturn_ was playing.

Quinn's grip tightens on her own, and she breathes out slowly. "I don't really know what that means, or what's expected, but I - " she pauses. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be." She audibly swallows. "I kind of just want to sit here with you, and talk, and just take in the view. Just, two people facing the day, letting the world pass us by."

And, okay, Rachel actually might have done the completely disastrous thing and actually _fallen in love_.

Right now.

In this moment.

Good God.

"Just thought I would let you know," Quinn says, offering her the opportunity _not_ to respond, which she gladly takes, because she's quite certain three very dangerous words would come tumbling out if she were to open her mouth.

* * *

Quinn decides it's time to take Rachel home when the brunette yawns for the third time in the space of a minute.

"No, I'm fine," Rachel argues, and then immediately yawns again. "Dammit."

Quinn just smiles at her. "You need sleep," she says. "And, I need to get home before my parents send out a search party." She's only mildly worried about the backlash about her involuntary trip into the night. It isn't as if she didn't _tell_ her father she was leaving the house. She mentioned her friend was having a… menstrual emergency, and he let her go without a word.

_Men_.

Rachel frowns. "Parents?"

Quinn tenses. "Oh, uh, yeah," she murmurs. "My, um, parents are back together."

Rachel blinks repeatedly. "That's… nice," she says. "Is it nice? I don't know how you feel about your father."

"I hate him," she bluntly says.

Rachel adjusts her grip on Quinn's hand. "I'm sorry."

Quinn sighs. "No, I'm sorry," she says. "I really don't want to be talking about my father, right now."

"What would you rather be talking about?"

Quinn gives her a sly look. "You're half asleep," she says. "I don't think either of us is in any condition to start a conversation like that."

"Like what?"

Quinn just shakes her head, and then continues on their way to Rachel's house. The streets are relatively empty. It _is_ a Tuesday, and it's now early morning. She can't really be sure what she's feeling about this entire excursion, but it's been both a relief and sweet, sweet torture to see Rachel.

It's dark out, so her view is a little shadowed - it works to her advantage, though, because Rachel would probably see things she really shouldn't, if she were to look closely enough.

It takes a single song for Quinn to pull up in front of Rachel's house, and she brings the car to a stop, parking against the curb and then turning to look at Rachel. She's surprised to find the brunette staring at her with unguarded fascination, and she blushes all over again. "We're here," she eventually says.

"We are," Rachel whispers. "We're here. _You're_ here."

Quinn audibly swallows, suddenly nervous. Why is Rachel looking at her like that?

"I'm here," Rachel says. "With you."

It's this very moment that Quinn will remember for the rest of her life; this moment where she makes the all-important decision. She can hide from this, run away somewhere far, far away… or she can just give in.

So, she does.

"I'm here," Quinn breathes, and then she's moving. She almost expects Rachel to meet her halfway, so she isn't surprised by the fact that Rachel leans in, as well. Her heart is pounding and her palms are sweating when their lips meet in a soft, hesitant kiss, and, yeah, it's never felt like this with anyone else before.

It's just a kiss.

There are fireworks going off somewhere behind her closed eyes, and she doesn't even think she's breathing.

"_Quinn_," Rachel whispers, and Quinn snaps back to reality, pulling back in a bit of a panic. "Don't," Rachel immediately says, reaching out to cup her cheek. "It's okay. Just breathe. You're okay. We're okay."

"I kissed you," Quinn practically gasps.

"And, I kissed you," Rachel says, sounding so very calm.

"Why aren't you freaking out?"

Rachel smiles softly at her. "I reckon you're doing it enough for the both of us."

And, Quinn laughs. She actually _laughs_. "You're ridiculous."

"I know," Rachel says. "We're being ridiculous together, remember?"

"I remember."

Rachel bravely kisses the tip of her nose. "Are you okay?"

All Quinn can do is nod.

"Are you sure?"

Another nod.

"Okay," Rachel says. "I should probably head inside. I'm half asleep."

"Hmm."

Rachel drops her gaze to Quinn's lips for a moment, and then leans in again. This kiss is shorter than their first, but it's more settling. Almost, familiar, even though it's only their second ever kiss. "Text me when you get home, okay?"

"Okay."

"I promise everything is going to be okay," Rachel assures her.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Berry."

"Good," Rachel says; "I expect you to."

* * *

"Uh, Sweetheart?"

Rachel freezes in the entrance hall, her eyes immediately taking in the forms of both her fathers as they stand in the archway to their living room.

"Not that we don't trust you, but we were under the impression you were out with Finn tonight," LeRoy says.

Rachel blinks. "I was…"

"And, he's the one who brought you home?"

Rachel hesitates.

"And, before you think of lying, you should know that Kurt called," Hiram says. "Something about wanting to check in you with you after you left so suddenly… more than two hours ago. He was worried when you weren't answering your phone."

Rachel resists the urge to check her phone, because she honestly hadn't thought of it once while she was with Quinn.

Because, she was with _Quinn_.

They kissed.

They actually _kissed_.

And, now, her fathers want to know where she's been.

She clears her throat. "I - I, uh, was with… the girl."

It's almost comical the way their eyes widen. LeRoy's jaw even drops.

Rachel takes a breath. "The night was… kind of awful, and she texted me, and I asked her to come get me, and then we kind of drove around for a while," she explains. "We… talked."

It's obvious her fathers don't know what to say to that, and it gets even worse when she adds, "She likes me, by the way." She lets out an amused breath, almost disbelieving. "She actually _likes_ me, the way I like her, and we're - " she hesitates. "Well, I don't know what we are, but I _really_ like her, Dads. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that."

"Because of Finn?"

Rachel winces, because, God, she hasn't even thought about him in this equation. How is he going to react to the fact that she likes _Quinn_? Would he even find out about it? Would they even tell anyone?

God, they have so much to talk about, but she just wants to bask in the light of the fact that they just had their first (and second) kiss.

Rachel shakes her head. "It's not about Finn," she says. "I - I just - " she stops. "Do we have to talk about this right now?"

Hiram sighs, and then shakes his head. "No, Sweetheart."

"Am I grounded?"

"Still undecided," Hiram concludes.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Goodnight," she says, decidedly not moving to hug them or kiss their cheeks, because God forbid they smell the alcohol on her breath. "I love you," she calls over her shoulder, and then rushes up the stairs to her bedroom, her phone already out and fingers poised to text Quinn.

* * *

Quinn isn't surprised to find her father waiting for her when she walks through the front door.

It's something out of a movie, really, the way he's just sitting there in the dim light, and Quinn practically freezes in place. She's been replaying what she's going to tell him in her head ever since she left Rachel's house.

She has it all planned, and she stumbles through an excuse about needing to go to the convenience store for tampons, and then just driving around until her friend's cramps started to subside.

There's enough truth in her story that all she receives is a single slap for staying out so late without texting.

She'll take it, because, God, imagine what he would do if he knew what she was _really_ doing. He'd probably kill her if he knew she was kissing girls.

Kissing a particular girl.

That she really _likes_ in that way she's supposed to like _boys_.

So, a stinging cheek is something she can handle, and she actually smiles as she heads up the stairs to her bedroom. It's this secret she now has, something that would destroy her father, and it makes her feel both excited and frightened.

Terrified, really.

For a moment, she considers if all these feelings are some result of wanting to defy her father, but there's absolutely no way to fake the way her heart starts to race the moment her phone lights up with Rachel's name.

**Rachel Berry**: _When I say to text when you get home, I mean it, Fabray. (This is me trying to sound stern)_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _You're cute. And, for your information, I just got to my bedroom now. Patience is a virtue, Rachel_.

**Rachel Berry**: _You think I'm cute, huh? And? Did you get in trouble? My dads were a little miffed I didn't let them know where I was, and Kurt has been texting like a mad person. I can be patient_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I do, yes, and a little ridiculous. Just a bit. Nothing too crazy. We'll have to stay in his good graces if I intend to see you as planned on Friday (and Saturday). That's good, because I think you're going to need all the patience you can get when it comes to dealing with me_.

**Rachel Berry**: _You keep calling me ridiculous, and I might just develop a complex. We're still having our sleepover? You give yourself too little credit, Quinn. Look how far we've come already_.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I think you're a little too strong for that. I've called you loads of other things before, and you're still exactly who you're meant to be. We are. Uh, unless you no longer want to? I know I've been… distant lately, but I thought we could probably use the time to talk. And, that isn't a euphemism for something. (Though, I would be remiss not to mention I wouldn't be opposed to the other thing, as well.)_

Quinn moves towards her bathroom to brush her teeth. She was in the middle of getting ready for bed when Rachel called, and now she can actually crawl under her covers and mull over the sudden turn this day has taken.

This morning, she woke up intent on ignoring everything that was happening with Rachel, and now she just got home from _kissing_ the girl.

She checks her phone again only once she's in bed, the lights switched off and her body oddly relaxed, given the emotions she's been through this entire day.

**Rachel Berry**: _At this point, I wish we could see each other the way the other person does. I definitely want to see you… to talk, and all those other things. It's a date! Goodnight, Quinn :*_

Quinn can't even stop herself from falling asleep with a smile on a face if she tries.

* * *

The fallout to Rachel's departure from Noah's party is… expected, and also not.

Firstly, she's not grounded, because she wasn't actually doing anything… wrong. She thinks her fathers are also just relieved not to have her brooding around the house anymore, and she's definitely not going to complain. She knows she's going to have to sit them down within the next day and try to explain that the girl she has feelings for is none other than Quinn Fabray, and said girl is coming over on Friday. It's not really a conversation she's looking forward to, given what they already know about Quinn and the Fabray family.

Secondly, Kurt asks her far too many probing questions about her feelings towards Finn… and Quinn, which she easily deflects, because she's really not going to talk to him about all of this before she's even discussed it with either of those two people.

Thirdly, Finn apologises endlessly for passing out on her, and she's sorely tempted to _use_ it to bring an end to this non-starter of a relationship. She gets the feeling they're going to have to have a bigger conversation about it, but she's not in a rush, because - _well_.

And, fourthly, _Quinn_.

Quinn Fabray.

She - she _flirts_, and she _says things_ and she replies religiously and she answers the phone and speaks in that breathy voice that has Rachel squirming. Constantly.

They're doing this thing.

They're _actually_ doing this, and Rachel is ready for it.

Well, she likes to think she is.

* * *

"Dads?"

Hiram and LeRoy exchange a worried look, because their daughter sounds particularly nervous about something. She also isn't eating any of her dinner, which is a worry, because she's usually a fan of LeRoy's chilli stir fry.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" LeRoy prompts.

Rachel sets her fork against her plate. "Well, umm, remember when I was having that friend come over a while back?"

They both nod.

"She's - she's coming over tomorrow," she says. "To help with the scrapbook. Uh, she might also sleep over, I don't yet know. We're kind of playing it by ear."

There's a moment of silence, and then Hiram asks, "Do we know this girl?" and LeRoy asks, "Rachel, is this _the girl_?"

She manages to smile at them both. "Yes. To both questions."

"I see," Hiram says. "Are you purposefully not telling us her name for a specific reason?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to make us guess?"

"I would prefer if you wouldn't," she says. "I'm really just asking for some leeway here. I want to talk to her, and see… where this is going. If things go well, she'll be here for dinner with you both tomorrow night and, if they don't, well, this'll just be that one thing we'll be able to discuss at family dinners years from now."

"Rachel?"

"Please," she says. "_Please_. We're already facing difficult enough odds, and I really just want us to have a few moments to ourselves. Please."

It's the eyes that get them to give in. She's pleading, almost begging, and they're always going to give in.

"Be careful, Sweetheart," LeRoy says. "Protect your heart."

Rachel isn't sure how they'll handle the knowledge she's already given it away.

* * *

Quinn arrives at the Berry home promptly at nine o'clock on Friday morning, the most nervous she's ever been in her life. She tries to tell herself this is just Rachel, but that just makes it worse.

It's _Rachel_, and Quinn is on the precipice of something truly great, even if it has the power utterly to wreck her.

It takes her close to ten minutes to work up the courage to get out of the car, and then another five to walk towards the door. Two more to be brave enough to knock, and then she suffers thirty seconds of pure, unadulterated panic.

The door flies open, and Quinn comes face-to-face with a breathtaking Rachel Berry. Quinn barely has enough time to register the sight of her before Rachel is tugging her into the house, shutting the door and squeezing the life out of her.

"I know we have a lot to talk about," Rachel whispers into Quinn's ear. "I just - if this is the last time we get - " she stops suddenly, squeaking when Quinn hugs her so tightly that it actually hurts.

The hug lasts a lifetime.

And then it gets awkward.

"Come with me," Rachel says, slipping her hand into Quinn's and leading the way into the dining room where she's laid out all her scrapbooking supplies.

"Wow," Quinn says. "That's, uh, a lot."

"I take my scrapbooking very seriously, Quinn," she says, almost too proudly. "We're cataloging memories here."

"And, you actually want to remember all this stuff?"

"I know I want to remember _this_," she says. "This moment right here, right now."

Quinn looks at her, not shying away from the intensity of her chestnut gaze. "You're not going to break into song, are you?" she finds herself asking, just to lighten the mood. "I'm pretty sure there's a _High School Musical_ song with that name."

"Do I even want to know how you know that?"

"Don't even pretend you weren't obsessed with Zac Efron at some point in your life."

Rachel gives her a sly look. "Perhaps," she allows. "But, I find I'm partial to blondes at the moment."

Quinn can't help her smile. "Is that so?"

"It is," Rachel confirms. "One particular blonde, in fact."

Quinn blushes, and she reaches out for Rachel's hand, just because she needs to be touching her in some way. She tugs gently, and Rachel moves closer. "Tell me more about this particular blonde."

Rachel beams at her, and her eyes are practically twinkling. "Well, this blonde has these hazel eyes," she says. "They're absolutely gorgeous, mesmerising, striking, and I would happily lose myself in them."

Quinn meets her gaze, and she wouldn't be able to look away if she tried.

"This blonde also has this voice," Rachel continues. "The way they sing; the way they speak. Their mouth forming around words... it's captivating."

Quinn sucks in a breath, because this is far more than she was expecting.

"This blonde is also smart and funny and witty, and she has - "

"She?"

Rachel flushes, and then she nods. "Her name is Quinn," she says. "Maybe you know her."

"I think I've only just met her," Quinn murmurs, and then leans down to press a soft kiss to Rachel's lips.

It's meant to be a peck, but Rachel chases her mouth when she pulls back, and this kiss is everything Quinn ever dreamed it would be. She turns her body to face Rachel, and the fingers of her right hand reach up to touch Rachel's neck.

The skin is so soft under her fingertips, and she hums to herself as Rachel tilts her head, deepening the kiss. Quinn could spend her life right here, doing this and feeling this.

"I want this," Rachel whispers against Quinn's lips. "I want this, Quinn. I want you."

Quinn keeps her eyes closed, merely focusing on her breathing. "Are you sure?" she asks, her voice trembling.

"I am."

"But, why?" Quinn asks, her eyes opening. "How? How can you even stand to look at me when I've been nothing but horrible to you for more than half the time we've even known each other?"

Rachel shushes her softly, sliding her fingers into loose blonde hair. "I don't know how to explain it so you believe me," she says. "I know you're not that person anymore, if you ever were in the first place."

"What does that mean?"

"Your heart's never been it, has it?"

Quinn presses her lips together, unsure how to respond to that.

"I want to know you," Rachel says. "This you. All of you. I - I can't hide it, and I don't want to. I tend to make a habit of going after what I want, and I want you." She sighs. "Do you want me too?" Her voice sounds more vulnerable than she wants, and she drops her gaze.

Quinn uses a finger to lift her chin. "I have to ask, again, Rachel, are you sure?"

Rachel immediately opens her mouth to reply.

"No," Quinn says. "Before you jump into a response, you have to think about this, okay? I'm Quinn. I'm notoriously difficult. I don't really do feelings that well, and I'm guarded. I have secrets, and I hide a lot of things. I lash out when I feel cornered. I go dark when I get scared. I don't usually talk about things when I'm supposed to." She takes a breath. "We can't be out. I don't even know if I'm... gay. All I know is I like you, and the person I am and the family I come from will make it very difficult for us to have any kind of normal relationship.

"We won't be able to hold hands in public or go out on romantic dates. We won't be able to be the kind of couple you're used to. I don't - I don't know what's going to happen in the future. My - my father has all these expectations of me, and I don't - I don't - "

Rachel has to quiet her again, threading her fingers through the soft, blonde hair. "Breathe, Quinn," she gently instructs. "Just, breathe, okay?" She offers an easy smile, trying to joke to ease Quinn's anxiety. "I realise we're probably getting married some time in the future - if your dream is anything to go by - but we haven't even been on a first date yet. Just, take a breath."

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispers.

Rachel takes hold of her hands and leads her into the living room, gently coaxing her onto the couch. She sits right beside her, close enough to touch but not doing so. "What has you so worried?"

"Nobody can know," she says. "It - it can't get out. If - if he finds out - _God_."

"If who finds out?"

Quinn just stares at her. "My father."

"Okay," Rachel says, squeezing Quinn's fingers. "He won't ever know."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Quinn regards her carefully, searching her face for something. Whether she finds it or not, Rachel doesn't know, but then Quinn is kissing her again, and this is a much more heated kiss.

When Quinn's tongue requests access, Rachel automatically parts her lips, and she sees oceans and blue skies and starry nights and all the beautiful things behind her eyelids. She moans into Quinn's mouth, and her hands lift to hold strong shoulders.

Eventually, Rachel has to break away to get a lung-full of air. "You know, we don't have to go out in public to go on a date," she points out.

"Is that your way of asking me out, Berry?"

Rachel traps her bottom lip between her teeth, and then nods. "Today. This afternoon. You and me. Right here."

Quinn hesitates. "Are you sure?" she has to ask again.

"I've literally never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

* * *

Eventually, they get to working on the scrapbook. They sit next to each other, because Rachel doesn't want Quinn too far away from her. She likes being able to reach out and touch her whenever she wants.

Rachel has her laptop set up, connected to a printer, and Quinn is going through all the pictures she's taken throughout the year. She doesn't think much about it until Quinn quietly observes, "There are actually a lot of pictures of me."

Rachel looks at her. "What?"

Quinn blushes. "I don't know," she says; "there just seems to be an alarmingly increased number of pictures with me in them."

"Well, you are stunning," Rachel says, trying to hide her own blush. "It makes sense."

"Hmm," Quinn muses. "Maybe your subconscious was trying to tell you something, the way mine has for years."

"What do you mean?"

Quinn turns her head to look at her, her expression serious. "I've had a lot of time to think about things," she says; "and I've come to the realisation that I actively... resisted you because my subconscious must have known that, if I ever truly allowed myself to get to know you, I would find myself right here."

"Right where?"

"With you," she says. "Just like this. Right here. Wanting you."

Rachel leans across, closing the space between them, and kisses her softly. Because, now she can. She can kiss Quinn whenever she wants - within reason - and she's going to take advantage of it. She feels Quinn smile against her lips, and this is literally everything.

Quinn pulls away first. "I think, of course, this little realisation of mine might need to be unpacked with a mental health professional, because I don't know how to deal with the fact I might have been antagonistic towards you to hide my subconscious affection for you."

Rachel swoons a bit, because, God, she just loves being able to have intelligent conversation.

They kiss again.

And again.

If Rachel had her way, they probably wouldn't stop.

* * *

At some point, Rachel disappears from the dining room, leaving Quinn to pick out matching colour palettes for the pages on their Sectionals' win.

When Quinn sang with Sam.

When Quinn was _with_ Sam.

It feels like a lifetime ago. She feels as if she was someone completely different back then. Nothing like this person she is right now, who Rachel Berry seems to find worthy of her time and attention.

If that doesn't tell her how far she's come since early December, she doesn't know what does.

* * *

"Come with me."

Quinn's stomach growls embarrassingly, and she flushes as she lets Rachel lead her out of the dining room... and down into the basement. Her steps falter when she takes in the room's transformation - from what she thinks she remembers, that is - and her heartbeat quickens.

"Rachel," she breathes, wonder in her voice.

There's a table in the centre of the room, with two chairs and two places set opposite each other. There are even candles in its centre. The light is dim, and there's soft music playing.

"The food should arrive shortly," Rachel says. "I won't subject you to my cooking this early in our relationship. I don't think you'd appreciate food-poisoning, and I'd rather not kill you just when I got you."

"Ah," Quinn says. "It's all about you, huh?"

"I'm all about you, Fabray," Rachel says, winking. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Quinn just nods.

"More iced tea?"

"Please."

Rachel jumps a little. "Okay," she says. "First, let me help you to your seat, and then I'll get right on it."

Quinn can't help her amusement as Rachel bustles about, getting her a drink and making sure she's comfortable. Rachel practically runs up the stairs when the doorbell rings and, seven minutes later, she's coming back down the stairs with a large tray.

Quinn smiles at the concentration on her face, and then her eyes widen when she spies the food. Rachel has set out the food on plates, in an attempt to make it look restaurant fancy, and Quinn feels such deep, deep affection for the girl.

Rachel sets their plates in front of them, some tomato gnocchi for Quinn and mushroom risotto for herself, and Quinn grabs for her hand before she can move to put the tray away.

Rachel lets out a yelp as Quinn tugs her into her lap, and then sighs at the feeling of strong arms wrapping around her waist.

Quinn hums softly as she buries her face in Rachel's loose hair. "You're wonderful," she breathes. "This is amazing."

"I just wanted to do something nice," Rachel murmurs.

"This is already the best first date of my entire life," she confesses. "I think we could literally be doing nothing, and it would still be spectacular."

"Quinn," she whispers, heat rising up her neck.

"It's you," Quinn says. "God, it's you."

Rachel turns her head, twisting her body, and kisses her soundly. They've never been this close before, and her entire body warms at the feel of Quinn's hands on her back.

They could kiss forever, if she had her way, but their food is going to get cold and she doesn't want their first date to consist solely of making out.

Reluctantly, she pulls back, smiles dopily, and then slips off Quinn's lap and takes her own seat.

Quinn looks delightfully kissed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and hair slightly mussed. God, she's stunning like this, and it makes her feel giddy that she's responsible for it. Quinn's eyes are even shining with something like wonder, and Rachel wants to freeze this moment for all of eternity.

Rachel almost tells the girl she loves her, which would be disastrous. Instead, she shuffles food into her mouth and tries - and fails - not to stare at this girl who's claimed her in all the ways.

* * *

"My dads sort of know about you."

Rachel realises belatedly that it's completely the wrong thing to say _and_ the utterly wrong time to say it, because the scissors Quinn is using end up slipping, and she cuts the side of her left forefinger.

"Shit," Quinn hisses, caught between putting the finger in her mouth or searching for some tissue. It stings like a bitch, but she's handled far more in her lifetime.

Rachel's eyes are wide. "Oh, my God," she exclaims, jumping to her feet. "I'm so sorry." She bolts from the room, and returns mere seconds later with a first aid kit.

Quinn just stares as she takes control of the situation, her hands automatically moving through the motions. She drags Quinn's hand into her personal space and immediately starts cleaning it with a cotton swab and some disinfectant.

Quinn registers relief that it isn't that deep, but it's definitely more than a paper cut.

Rachel works quickly, as if she has experience with these things. She makes sure to wait until the bleeding has stopped completely before she bandages it up, taping it securely. She surveys her handiwork, and then sighs. She brings Quinn's finger up to her mouth and gently kisses it.

"All better," she whispers, still unable to look at Quinn's face.

Quinn smiles softly, and then uses the finger Rachel still has hold of to tilt her chin upwards. "It's okay, you know," she says. "Just, maybe, don't say things like that when I'm uses sharp equipment."

Rachel flushes. "Sorry."

Quinn clears her throat. "You told your fathers about me?"

"Well, no. I mean, yes. Kind of."

"Rach?"

Rachel's eyes widen at the sound of her nickname from Quinn's mouth, and she's quite certain nothing in this world has ever sounded that good. "I've been trying to come to terms with... liking a girl," she confesses quietly, and then allows Quinn to tug her closer, coaxing her into her lap. "Contrary to what the world would probably believe, the whole idea of... being gay kind of scares me."

Quinn sits silently, her arms wrapped securely around Rachel's waist.

"I needed to talk to someone about it," she says. "And, they have some experience with this kind of thing." She rolls her eyes at herself. "They know there's a girl, but not that the girl is you."

Quinn tenses. "Did you not tell them because... I used to torment you?"

"Partly," Rachel admits, turning her head to look at Quinn's face. "It's also because I wouldn't want to out you before we even had a chance to talk about it. They're curious, of course, and they want to meet you. Tonight. At dinner. Because you're staying."

"Because you're asking so nicely, huh?" Quinn asks, in an attempt to ease her own unease. She's deathly nervous and apprehensive about the prospect of meeting Rachel's fathers as a potential suitor.

"Now that I finally have you here with me, I'm not letting you go until I absolutely have to," Rachel says, unapologetically. "I haven't seen you in weeks."

"You saw me on Tuesday, Rach."

"Hush, you, with your logic."

Quinn laughs softly, and then she sighs. "I'm glad you've had someone to talk to about all of this," she says.

"Have you talked to anyone?" Rachel asks, already knowing the answer.

"Mainly you," Quinn says. "But, I did read up on some gay teen stories online. Like, how they finally realised, how they possibly came out, how they dealt with their first crushes and relationships, and those kinds of things."

"Has it been helpful?"

Quinn nods. "It's better than going into all of this blindly, and I don't really have much else to do other than lose myself in the black hole that is the internet. _Buzzfeed_ totally sucked me in the other day. One blink later, I'd done something like fifty quizzes."

Rachel giggles.

Quinn's smiles is warm, if a little hesitant. "Do your fathers hate me?"

"No." There's absolutely no hesitation in her voice, and it settles something within Quinn. "They're probably wary of you, if anything."

"Am I going to be interrogated?"

"Of course not," she says. "They'll just want to get to know you, and then they'll see what I see."

"And, what do you see?"

Rachel kisses her cheek. "Someone deserving of all the good things."

"What about the bad?"

"Never," Rachel says. "Never the bad."

* * *

Quinn suggests they actually cook dinner, which intrigues Rachel to no end. It's not something she knew about Quinn, but apparently the blonde knows her way around a kitchen.

Rachel can't really explain what she feels, watching Quinn float around the open space, her fingers constantly moving and her eyes shining. She looks to be in her element, and Rachel is so charmed by the foodie Quinn seems to be that she sometimes just stops what she's doing - Quinn has her chopping vegetables - and stares helplessly.

"I never thought I would ever actually prepare a vegan meal," Quinn absently says a little while later, adding seasoning to a pot. "I have no idea how it's going to come out."

"I'm sure it'll taste good," Rachel says.

"Why do you say that?" Quinn asks, looking curiously at her.

"I just have this feeling," she says.

"It seems to me you've been feeling a lot of things."

Rachel just nods, as she completely abandons what she's doing - gathering plates to set the table - and stalks towards Quinn, because there's definitely something almost... primal about the way she's reacting to seeing Quinn in her kitchen.

"Rachel?" Quinn questions, stepping back when Rachel approaches. "What are you - "

"You are so beautiful," Rachel says, and her voice is breathy.

Quinn blinks, blushing at the compliment. "Uh, thank you."

Rachel waits only a beat, and then she's leaning into Quinn, practically pressing their bodies together. Quinn startles slightly, her back hitting the counter behind her. She sucks in a single breath, before Rachel is kissing her, and this is the kind of kiss that seals the deal.

They're in this.

They're doing this.

They'll figure out everything else as it comes.

Quinn's hands slide up Rachel's back as she moans into the kiss, her heartbeat running rampant. It's perfect. Everything is just perfect.

Rachel suspects the kiss could have gone on forever, if they don't hear the front door close. She practically leaps back, her eyes wide, and Quinn's eyes are panicked.

"Shit," Rachel says. Then: "The pot."

Quinn scrambles towards the stove, and Rachel tries to catch her breath before her fathers show themselves. She just about manages to get her wits about her in time to smile at LeRoy when he strolls into the kitchen.

"Sweetheart, I sincerely hope you're not attempting to cook dinner again," he's saying, his focus on the newspaper in his one hand while the other loosens his tie. "Remember what happened the last time you - " he stops suddenly, his eyes landing on Quinn, and then Rachel. He eyes them critically, and Rachel finds herself wishing this endless moment would just end.

LeRoy blinks once, twice, and then smiles. "Well, that's a relief," he says. "I was worried Rachel was the one cooking." He holds his hand out to Quinn. "I'm LeRoy Berry, and you are?"

Quinn gets the feeling he already knows, but she takes it in stride. She steps up, shakes his hand as firmly as she can manage, and says, "I'm Quinn Fabray."

"Well, hello there, Quinn Fabray," he says. "Are you making dinner?"

Quinn nods. "I hope that's okay, Sir," she says, and she's all too aware of the way Rachel is staring at her.

"It's perfect," he says. "Better than my having to slave away to feed those two freeloaders."

"Daddy," Rachel says, a slight whine in her voice.

Quinn giggles. "She was worried she would poison me, so I wouldn't let her do that to you."

Rachel huffs. "I'm standing right here," she says, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I can see that, Sweetheart," LeRoy says.

Quinn just smiles at her, this easy, dopey thing.

Rachel completely melts at the sight of it. She opens her mouth to say something, but her other father comes tumbling in, complaining about something or the other.

Hiram, too, freezes at the sight of Quinn, and his eyes widen... before they harden.

Quinn shifts her weight, suddenly uncomfortable, and Rachel wants to move towards her, just to touch her. Reassure her.

For a moment, nobody says anything.

Then, the stove sizzles, and Quinn jumps in place, immediately turning her attention towards it. She uses the opportunity to plan her escape. She'll finish cooking, plate the food, and then she'll make some kind of excuse to leave, and then -

She flinches at the feel of a hand on her back, and she turns in surprise. Rachel snaps her hand back immediately, looking apologetic.

"Sorry," Rachel says, her eyes wide. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Quinn blinks. "You didn't," she tries, but it falls flat. She sighs. "I, uh, should I go?"

"What? No."

Quinn resists the urge to glance over her shoulder to where she's sure Rachel's fathers are still standing and staring. "I - I think I should."

"No," Rachel says, and she's stern. "You're here, and I want you here, and you're staying, and we're all going to have to get through this eventually, so we may as well start right now." She slips her hand into Quinn's, and Quinn feels all her apprehension bleed away. "Please, stay," she whispers.

It's the eyes.

God, Quinn would give in to them all day, every day.

* * *

It's as awkward as one expects it to be.

LeRoy compliments the food, Hiram says nothing. LeRoy asks Quinn how her summer's going, Hiram says nothing. LeRoy teases Rachel about her inability to cook, Hiram says nothing.

Rachel holds Quinn's hand the entire time. Under the table, of course, but it's the only reason she's still sitting here. She's as tense as can be and, as much as she wants this man to like her, he doesn't necessarily scare her.

Her father scares her.

This man, she could probably go toe-to-toe with, if she were so inclined. She just doesn't want to make things awkward for Rachel, because she likes this girl, so she's going to have to learn to like her fathers.

Probably.

If she wants her relationship with Rachel to succeed.

Which she does.

It's terrifying, and she wonders how it's all going to work out, because the reality is that she's Quinn Fabray, and that makes things infinitely more complicated.

Rachel squeezes her fingers, getting her attention.

Quinn turns her head, and Rachel is looking at her expectantly. "Hmm?"

"You okay?" Rachel whispers.

Quinn manages a smile. "Yip."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Liar."

Quinn has the sudden urge to kiss her, and Rachel's own eyes flick down to her lips. It's the moment Quinn knows she'll endure just about anything to get to experience this. With this girl.

She straightens in her seat, puts on her game face, and prepares to charm the pants off both these men.

* * *

It sort of works.

Hiram still says nothing... directly to her, but he does start to relax, and he says a few words to LeRoy, and even some to Rachel, who is acting a little cold towards him, in her own right.

She's mad at him for making this so awkward for all of them, and he's not even trying. LeRoy obviously is, telling stories about his and Hiram's day at work at the hospital - they're both surgeons - and Quinn is putting herself out there, making pleasant conversation, and Rachel has the urge to stab him with her fork.

Can't he tell she's trying to start an actual relationship with this girl? She really doesn't need her father creating unnecessary obstacles for her and for them.

She's plagued by the urge to hide Quinn from him; to protect her from her own father. It unsettles her, and she keeps looking at him, as if she can somehow get through to him that this is important.

It's as if he doesn't see her - or he's just ignoring her - and Rachel tries not to be too hurt by it. She'll talk to him about it when Quinn leaves, because, right now, her blonde... uh, person is her number one priority.

* * *

"Come here," Rachel says, and Quinn goes. She's always going to go. Rachel holds out her hand, and Quinn takes it, absently allowing Rachel to pull her onto the bed with her.

It's not that late, but Rachel had them escape to her bedroom the moment they finished with the dishes.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says the second Quinn is settled beside her. "It was supposed to be... better. I don't know what's going on with him."

Quinn just hums noncommittally, hesitating for only a beat of her heart before she reaches out to wrap her arms around Rachel's waist.

Whatever Rachel has planned to say escapes her at the feel of Quinn's body curling around her own. She's cuddled with Jesse, and with Finn before, but it's never really felt like this. Jesse was too... warm - all the time - and Finn was too smothering. He engulfed her, and Rachel likes snuggling as much as the next person, but it wasn't always comfortable.

With Quinn, it's different.

They're supposed to be watching a movie, but Quinn has her face buried in Rachel's hair, and the brunette probably wouldn't even be able to recall the lyrics to _My Heart Will Go On_ at this point, and it's one of go-to songs.

Quinn holds her purely for the sake of holding her.

Jesse did it, because he usually aimed to receive something in return, and Finn had to be promised something as well. He was also usually distracted.

Quinn's sole focus is Rachel, and both her breathing and heartbeat can't seem to handle it. Especially when Quinn nuzzles the side of her face and lets out a content puff of air.

"We can deal with it in the morning," Quinn murmurs, and she sounds so delightfully drowsy. "Right now, I just want to lie here with you and forget the world."

Rachel can't help it when she asks, "Did you just quote Snow Patrol?"

"Shut it, Berry," she sleepily says. "I'm trying to sleep here."

* * *

Saturday is better, but also not.

Quinn helps LeRoy with breakfast, and then she goes into the basement with Rachel to work on the scrapbook, and just to be away from Hiram.

"I don't understand what his problem is," Rachel rants, pacing the room. "Daddy's fine, and I'm fine, and you're fine, so I don't get what has him so... _urgh_." She stares at Quinn, feeling guilty and helpless. "You've been so lovely, and such a wonderful guest, and you don't deserve the way he's been treating you."

Quinn sighs. "He hasn't even said anything to me."

"Exactly," she hisses. "It's rude."

Quinn just holds out her hands, waving them. "Come here."

"No."

"Come here," Quinn repeats. "Baby, please."

Rachel freezes, because Quinn just called her -

She goes, and practically drops herself into Quinn's lap, immediately hiding her face in Quinn's neck. "I want you to come back," she murmurs. "Why would you ever want to come back when he's acting as if you're unwelcome?"

"I'd come back for you," Quinn says, which earns her a soft kiss to the skin of her neck. "I think this is the only place we'll really get to be... together, so I'll endure it. As long as he lets me come back, I will. This house... feels more... comfortable than my own."

Rachel must feel the way she tenses at her own confession, because she pulls back to look at Quinn's face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Quinn?"

Quinn audibly swallows. "I just - I'll come back, okay?"

"Okay."

They stare at each other for the longest time, and Quinn feels everything that's been happening between them this summer truly reach significance in this moment.

There's no running from it now.

* * *

"I'll talk to him," is the first thing LeRoy says when Rachel stomps into the kitchen after she's just bid Quinn goodbye. "He'll come around."

Rachel stands, her arms crossed over her chest. "Where is he?"

"I said I'll talk to him, Rachel," LeRoy says, sighing in exasperation. It isn't as if he hasn't already been quietly hissing at his husband since the previous evening, which was about as awkward as any dinner he's ever had.

Rachel's stance doesn't let up, but she does relent. "You have to, Daddy," she says. "I really like Quinn, and - " she halts. "Look, I _know_ everything she's done in the past. _I've_ experienced first-hand just how cruel she can be, but I've also had the opportunity to get to know this side of her. This side she's forced herself to suppress and keep hidden. I know she has a lot to work on - so do I - but I'm determined to be a part of it, and I really don't need Dad treating my girlfriend as if she's some leper!"

Despite the severity of the conversation, LeRoy risks a small smile. "Girlfriend?"

Rachel blushes. "I - I just asked her," she admits. "While we were outside at her car. She said yes."

"She'd be an idiot not to."

"I'm just relieved Dad didn't scare her away."

LeRoy shakes his head. "I get the feeling that girl doesn't scare easily."

* * *

Quinn doesn't.

She can count on one hand the things that truly frighten her.

One is spiders, which is self-explanatory.

Two is that she'll, somehow, end up just like her mother. She would rather die than have that happen.

Three is the world finally figuring out just how much of a waste of space she actually is. That she's not worth the breath she takes up. That everything would just be so much better without her around.

Four is Beth possibly ending up hating her. It's a thought that fuels her nightmares, but there's really nothing she can do at this point. She writes letters that she sends to Shelby for Beth to read in the future. Quinn just wants the little girl to know she's always been loved. It's all Quinn has to offer. It's all she's ever had.

And, five, is this: an angry Russell Fabray, drunk on a Saturday afternoon.

Quinn doesn't even know why he's angry, when she's made sure to keep him updated on the fact she went to one place and stayed there. She didn't see any... boys, and she didn't really lie about anything.

They're all things she points out, and he grumbles something under his breath before he throws his glass at the door beside her, shattering it against the open door to his study.

"Get out of my sight!" he yells, even as Quinn lifts her arms to block her face from the explosion of glass shards. Some catch her forearms, but they merely sting. What's more worrying is when he says. "You look just like your mother."

She bolts. She's not going to let him ruin her good mood from spending the last… thirty hours in Rachel's presence.

Rachel, who is now her… girlfriend. Quinn feels a little giddy just thinking about it. She's never quite felt this feeling to this extent. She felt it a little with Sam, because he was kind and attentive. He seemed genuinely to care about her - even if their relationship really started because they both wanted to further their popularity.

She liked him. Maybe not as much as she probably should have, given that she was able to cheat on him, but he was the closest she came to feeling whatever she's currently feeling for one Rachel Berry.

When she gets to her room, the first thing she does is text Rachel that she made it home all right, and then she cleans the tiny cuts on her arms. They're mainly annoying, but that's where her complaints die. It's not the worst she's ever experienced, and they in no way hinder her ability to see Rachel.

* * *

Which is what Quinn does on Tuesday afternoon.

She goes over to the Berry home after she's sat through an awkward, painful lunch with her mother, who is sporting a bruised cheek of her own. Quinn doesn't even know what to say to her at this point, so she says nothing. As long as she gets to come and go, she'll say nothing.

After all, it's something she's learned from Judy Fabray.

It makes her feel guilty and unsettled and angry and sad. Her mother should be saving _them_. It's not supposed to be the other way around. Quinn reasons she could run. She could leave and go somewhere. She doesn't know where or how she would realistically support herself, but she _could_.

Only, there's a certain part of her that wouldn't want to leave her mother here. There's no knowing what Russell would do, and Quinn also has this rational fear that he would come after her, just to drag her back, so she can't ruin the Fabray name any further. He's bound to get the shock of his life if he ever learns she has an actual girlfriend.

She actually contemplates coming out, just to see if he'll finally give up on the image of a prefect family he has in his head. Maybe she'll be able to drive him away with her… sin. Maybe he'll kick her out again.

Maybe -

Maybe he'll kill her.

Quinn doesn't know, which is really why she keeps her mouth shut, texts her father she's going to see her friend again, and then gets in her car and drives. It should take her close to twelve minutes to get to Rachel's house, but she's a little distracted, and it takes her nineteen, instead.

Rachel is waiting for her, because she barely has to knock before the door is opening and a strong arm is pulling her into the entrance hall. Those same arms wrap her in a hug that settles every warring part of her, and Quinn does the absolutely unthinkable and actually starts to cry. She doesn't even know why, but she's so embarrassed by it.

"It's okay," Rachel soothes, but she can't know that. She _can't_. "It's okay," she repeats.

Quinn just holds her tightly, her breathing ragged and her thoughts awry. She didn't come over here to be a blubbering mess, and she really doesn't want Rachel to think this breakdown has anything to do with their change in relationship status.

That's actually the only good thing to come out of this atrocious summer, so far. Because, Quinn gets the feeling the remaining weeks have the ability to get better, and worse, depending on whom they involve.

Before Rachel can question her about what's bothering her, Quinn kisses her. If only to reassure them both that this sob session has nothing to do with their relationship. She also really just wants to kiss her. It's been three days of imagining this moment; of recalling Rachel's taste and wishing desperately for the feel of their bodies pressed together.

Quinn backs Rachel into the closest wall, and the brunette makes this delightful sound of pleasure that sends blood in every direction besides Quinn's brain.

With her previous boyfriends, she's always maintained a lot of control. She hid behind Celibacy Club to keep them respectful, but that all seems to have slipped from her mind when her hand slides up the warm, soft skin of Rachel's back, under her top. It feels like heaven under her fingertips, and she wants to get closer, closer.

Rachel nibbles on her bottom lip, which makes her groan unintelligibly and _God, ohmygod, why does it feel so good_? Rachel's fingers slide into blonde hair, which is probably a mess at this point, and Quinn feels weak. Her knees are shaking and her heart is pounding and she's kissing Rachel Berry, and she really, really likes it.

Eventually, Quinn has to pull back, because she may or may not suffocate if she doesn't. "You taste like apples," is the first thing her deprived brain thinks to have her mouth say.

Rachel giggles, breathless, and then she tugs Quinn back down, kissing her again.

* * *

Initially, Quinn thought she would be slightly uncomfortable with the physical aspect of a same-sex relationship. Really, the physical aspect of _any_ relationship, but she's not. It all feels so natural, like - God, she's so pathetic - they were always meant to be.

Eventually, they abandon the allure of remaining kissing up against the wall to get back to Rachel's scrapbook. She's made little progress since Quinn left on Saturday, but that's mainly because she now wants it to be a _them_ project. This past year is about the both of them working through _everything_ to get to this point in their lives.

They've been through a lot.

Rachel can't really say she regrets any of it, though, because Quinn's hand is resting on her thigh as she leans over to look at the photographs Rachel is choosing.

"Do you want to write something about our Christmas carolling?" Rachel asks Quinn.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Never do it again?"

Rachel giggles, placing a soft kiss against the smiling lips right in front of her. "No," she says. "Something else."

Quinn just nods. "Okay, baby."

Rachel smiles at her. "I really like it when you call me that," she says. "It makes me feel as I'm really yours."

"You are."

Rachel kisses her again.

And again.

Forget the scrapbook.

They have the rest of the summer for that.

* * *

Quinn doesn't stay for dinner.

She leaves just fifteen minutes before Rachel's fathers get home from work, and Rachel finds herself already missing her.

So much so that she's even tempted to call Quinn after dinner.

She doesn't.

She does text, though, and the two of them spend the next four hours talking about absolute nonsense.

* * *

It's while Quinn and Rachel are debating over the colour scheme for their pages on the events of New Year's on Friday afternoon that the doorbell rings.

Despite how relaxed Quinn has been, she still tenses, her mind immediately jumping to the conclusion her father has somehow found her and has come to fetch her.

But, when Rachel opens the door to reveal Finn Hudson, Quinn almost wishes it were Russell instead.

Almost.

Quinn remains in the dining room, her body and mind warring with each other at the sound of the surprise in Rachel's voice. Her body wants to go out there and claim Rachel, but her mind is telling her they're not ready for that.

_She's_ not ready for anyone to know - least of all Finn Hudson.

This is the reality of their lives, and Quinn considers what kind of future she can realistically offer Rachel. Until she turns eighteen, she's… useless. She'll never come out in this stupid town, and her bank account is… well, it's substantial for a seventeen-year-old, but it's not something she'll actually be able to live off when she leaves home. She'll have to get a job, and then wait until she gets access to her Trust Fund to start thinking about college. She _could_ get a scholarship, she thinks, but her family's money might make that difficult.

"I'm actually busy right now." Rachel suddenly says, cutting into Quinn's thoughts.

"Aw, come on, Rach, what could you possibly be busy with at home by yourself?" Finn asks, and Quinn can practically hear the shrug in his voice.

"I'm working on something," Rachel says, and she sounds tense. "And, plus, it's improper just to show up at someone's house and expect them to 'hang out' with you."

"I was being spontaneous," Finn says. "I thought you liked that sort of thing." He pauses. "And, it isn't as if you've actually been replying to my texts, so I thought it'd be cool just to show up."

Quinn smiles to herself, because it's a relief to know Rachel hasn't actually been talking the oaf.

Rachel clears her throat. "Finn," she starts; "as, uh, sweet as you think that is, it's terribly inconvenient for me. I _am_ busy, and I don't have the time to spend with you, right now."

Finn is silent for a moment. "Is this because I passed out on you at Puck's party?" he asks; "because I apologised for that."

Quinn clenches her jaw, because Rachel didn't tell her that.

Granted, Quinn didn't really ask her why Rachel wanted her to fetch her from the party.

"It's not about that," Rachel says. "I'm just busy."

"But, you're never busy," Finn says, sounding genuinely confused. "You always have time to hang out with me."

Rachel sighs. "That's not true," she says. "I _made_ time for you, whenever you would just show up or suddenly remember you had a girlfriend and wanted to spend time with me. I'm not doing that anymore."

"Why not?"

Quinn scoffs.

Rachel mumbles something Quinn doesn't catch. "We're not doing this now," she adds, clearer now. "I'm busy, and we can meet up next week to discuss this further."

"Wait," Finn says, and he sounds panicked. "You're saying no?"

"I'm saying no," Rachel confirms.

"But - " he sputters. "I don't get it. All you've wanted was to be with me, and now you get to be, and you're actually saying no?"

Quinn can't even believe how conceited he sounds right now, and the worst part is that he doesn't even realise it. Finn Hudson isn't _all_ Rachel wants. _Quinn_ isn't even all the brunette wants. Rachel wants New York and Broadway and success and fame and true love and a family of her own and happiness.

"Not now, Finn," Rachel says tensely, and then she closes the door.

Quinn waits patiently for her to return to the dining room but, after a full three minutes, she doesn't emerge. With a slight frown on her face, Quinn gets to her feet and goes in search of her girlfriend, only to find her with her forehead leaning against the front door and her shoulders shaking from silent sobs.

Quinn hesitates for only a moment before she wraps her arms around Rachel from behind and moulds her body around the brunette's. She's not sure what to say, because she's unsure what part of her brief conversation with Finn has made her so upset, so Quinn just holds her and waits.

"It's not true, is it?" Rachel eventually whispers, her hands sliding along Quinn's bare arms. "Does - does everyone think _all_ I've ever wanted is actually Finn Hudson? Was - was I really willing to throw New York away for him?"

Quinn just holds her tighter, absently placing a kiss to her neck.

"That's - that's what you were trying to say in the auditorium," Rachel says, almost gasping. "Even then, you were convinced I was destined for more than him and what he represents." She turns in Quinn's arms, wanting to see the blonde's face. Quinn's expression is surprisingly open, and Rachel sees truth and affection and - and something like _love_ shining right back at her. "So are you."

Quinn audibly swallows.

"So are you, Quinn," Rachel repeats. "You are destined for everything and more."

* * *

Dinner is still an awkward affair, and Rachel barely says any words. It's been a rather emotional day for her, and she's looking forward to curling up with Quinn and letting the entire day just bleed away.

It makes her a little clingy while at the dinner table and, while Quinn is a little hesitant and wary about the physical contact at first, she settles into it. LeRoy doesn't seem bothered by their hand-holding, and Hiram… doesn't really look at them at all.

Rachel doesn't have the patience to deal with his moods, so she ignores him. She's been doing a lot of that in the week since they first sat down for a meal. LeRoy tried talking to him, but he's saying very little of anything about whatever feelings towards Quinn he seems to be harbouring.

Still, Quinn sits, charming as ever whenever she talks to LeRoy, and present whenever Rachel speaks to her. She _knows_ bad fathers, and she's not about claim Hiram is one of them.

He's just… well, she's not really sure what he is, because it's not as if he's acting protective. He hasn't even threatened Quinn. He's said nothing. Just observed her, as if he's analysing and cataloguing every thing she does and every word she says, making calculations and trying to decide whether she's worthy or not.

Quinn has never failed a test in her life, and she doesn't intend to start now.

This might just be the most important one.

* * *

Later, Quinn sits on Rachel's bed and watches as the girl rants and raves about her father and Finn and how men and boys are just so stupid. Rachel paces her room, muttering about how much her father must hate her and he's the worst and he's ruining her life, and Quinn just says, "Stop it."

As if Quinn's cast some kind of spell, Rachel does stop, and turns her body to face Quinn, who is looking at her with an expression Rachel can't read.

"Don't say things like that," Quinn says, and she sounds oddly detached. "Your father doesn't hate you, he's definitely not the worst, and he's not trying to ruin your life. It's obvious he loves you. He - he wouldn't intentionally hurt you. He wouldn't."

Rachel just stares at her, realising Quinn is telling her something without actually telling her.

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

Rachel has questions, but she recognises this isn't the time for that. Quinn looks particularly unsettled about something, and Rachel reasons she should stop talking about her own father, whom she normally adores, when Quinn has an actual father she hates.

Rachel takes a breath. "I'm sorry," she says.

Quinn holds out her hands. "Come here," she says, and Rachel goes immediately, climbing onto the bed and actually straddling Quinn's legs as she leans against Rachel's headboard.

Quinn's eyes widen, and her hands automatically lift to rest on Rachel's thighs, steadying her. "What are you - "

Rachel kisses her, soft and slow. Her fingers slide into blonde hair, tilting her head to deepen their kiss. They're really supposed to be watching a movie, but this is so much better.

Quinn runs her fingers up Rachel's thighs, up onto her hips and then around her waist, tugging her closer. Her heart rate picks up at the feel of Rachel's upper body pressed against her own, and her breath is... non-existent. It's the reason she drags her lips from Rachel's, and traces along the brunette's jaw and down the column of her throat.

"Oh," Rachel murmurs, tilting her head to the side to give Quinn better access. Her hips shift forward, and Quinn groans.

"_God_."

Rachel kisses her lips again, her own tongue running along the backs of Quinn's teeth. She can taste the lemon from their sorbet dessert, and she licks further into Quinn's mouth.

She just wants to get closer, taste more, feel it all.

Forget that there's an actual obstacle they're going to have to face in this very house.

It works.


	3. Stutter Love

**Part Three**

**Stutter Love**

* * *

They fall into a bit of a routine.

Quinn visits on Tuesdays, always leaves before dinner, and she comes over on Friday morning, sleeps over, and then leaves on Saturday afternoon.

Before long, a little over a month has past, and Rachel has never been happier.

In a relationship, that is.

Things are still awkward with Hiram, but she tries not to focus on that too much. If he ever actually took the time to get to know Quinn, he would see what Rachel sees, and she doesn't know how to get her father to accept that without screaming bloody murder at him.

Just to get him to _try_, at least.

She doesn't think it's too much to ask, really.

In that time, Rachel has had to dodge Kurt's attempts to ask her about what she's really been up to this summer, because she gets the feeling Finn has been in his ear, convincing him to get some insight into her thinking.

She and Finn have yet to have that elusive sit-down, and she's nearly ready to drive over to his house just to get him to stop calling and texting. It bothers her, sometimes, that he's only interested because she's suddenly not anymore.

It also bothers her that she can't just tell him she's seeing somebody else.

That's a can of worms for which nobody is ready.

* * *

So, it's that little over a month later that sees Quinn arrive home from a Tuesday with Rachel to find her father already home from work. She tenses at the sight of him just sitting there, a glass of Bourbon in his one hand and some kind of booklet in his other.

"Harvard," is the first thing he says when he lifts his head to look at her. "What needs to be done to make sure you get in?"

Quinn clenches her jaw. "What do you mean?"

"Do I need to call Admissions?"

"No," she immediately says. "Jesus, don't do that."

He raises his eyebrows. "Do you mean to tell me you'll be able to get in on your own merit?"

"Definitely not on yours," she mutters under breath.

"What was that?"

"I can," Quinn says, and she _knows_ she can. She could get into any school, she thinks, but she doesn't _want_ to go to Harvard. She doesn't want to be just another Fabray, following all the footsteps of so many others just to becoming yet another money-hungry, soulless, corporate lawyer.

It's not really something she can realistically tell her father, though. Who knows what he would do?

"And, what happens if you don't?" Russell asks.

Quinn meets his gaze, defiant. "I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

The challenge is set, Quinn thinks, and he probably thinks he owns her.

Which, okay, he probably does.

"I suppose we will," Russell finally says.

Quinn knows she should leave it at that, but he's at home right now, and something just doesn't feel right about this moment right here. "Where's Mom?"

His eyes flash darkly. "Upstairs."

Quinn shifts her weight. "What did you do?" she asks, which is entirely the wrong thing to do, _especially_ in _that_ tone of voice.

Because, obviously _Russell_ hasn't done anything wrong.

Only Judy.

And, now, Quinn.

* * *

Quinn realises, far too late, that she can't actually skip out on their standing Friday nights, so she dresses herself up, takes far too many painkillers, and then prepares to brave it in her girlfriend's presence.

The thing is that Rachel really likes to touch, and too many parts of Quinn are hurting for it to go largely unnoticed, even if she is wearing jeans and a sweater. Rachel keeps giving her curious looks, particularly when she rather asks for things to be passed to her instead of reaching for them herself.

Quinn tells her a story about pushing it a little two hard at the gym, which can explain the wincing, but Rachel doesn't look as if she completely believes her.

Quinn just kisses her softly.

Maybe too softly.

Rachel slides her fingers into Quinn's hair, tugging. Quinn is still a little sensitive where Russell pulled at her scalp, and her pained groan is muffled by Rachel's mouth, mistaken for pleasure.

Quinn breaks the kiss first, and bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying out, because Rachel can't know.

She _can't_.

* * *

It's later, just before they head to bed, and Quinn is in the bathroom seeing to the bruising on her ribs and cuts on her upper arms that she feels the pain resonate.

She tries to tell herself it's all in her head, but she knows it's not. If it was, she probably could have dealt with it by now. Maybe.

Instead, she sucks in a breath and wraps a large bandage tightly around her midsection, to keep her ribs stable during the night. She just hopes Rachel isn't feeling too frisky tonight, because she really doesn't know how to explain it.

Quinn brushes her teeth, washes her face, and then leaves the bathroom. She's using the guest one, because Rachel is in her own, and she opens the door just as her toiletry bag slips out of her hand.

She grumbles a curse under her breath, and then prepares herself to bend and retrieve it. It hurts, and she has to use a steadying hand on the doorframe to keep herself from toppling over. Her other hand shoots to her ribs, and her breathing grows ragged.

It's okay.

She's okay.

It takes a moment, but she eventually gets her bag and stands upright... only to come face-to-face with Hiram Berry, who is just standing there, watching her intently.

They just stare at each other, because Quinn knows he knows.

He _has_ to know, because it's so obvious.

She's hurting, and he's seen it.

"You can't tell her," is the first thing Quinn says, and there are tears in her eyes. "You can't. She can't know."

Hiram says nothing.

All he does is walk forward, past Quinn and into the bathroom. She turns to look at him, needing him to assure her he's not going to tell Rachel. Quinn watches as he opens the cabinet under the sink and retrieves a first aid kit.

"Well," Hiram says, waving her inside. "Let's take a look, then."

* * *

It's a surprise to them all, including himself, when Hiram suggests that Quinn stay for dinner when she starts to get ready to leave the next afternoon.

LeRoy stares at his husband as if he's grown a second head, and Rachel and Quinn exchange an uneasy look. It's unexpected, but only Quinn knows the potential reason why.

"I hear you're quite good at _Scrabble_," Hiram says, his eyes on Quinn.

Quinn audibly swallows, feeling uncertain. "I wouldn't go that far," she says carefully.

"We'll play a game after dinner then," Hiram says, waving a hand. "Sit back down. The movie isn't even finished yet."

Quinn just blinks, and then slowly returns to her seat, her hand sliding back into Rachel's. The brunette is still in shocked silence, and LeRoy is looking between the two of them as if he's trying to figure out what's changed.

Eventually, he gives up on trying to work it out for himself, and asks, "Okay, what's happened?"

Hiram offers his most innocent expression. "What?"

"H?"

Hiram just turns his attention to the television screen. "I'm trying to watch the movie," he says. "What's with all the yapping?"

Rachel leans against Quinn, and the blonde sucks in a painful breath. Her eyes dart Hiram's way when he turns to look at her, and something very significant passes between them.

She knows he won't tell Rachel, but this isn't the end of it.

With a sigh, Quinn turns her head and presses a soft kiss to the top of Rachel's head. Every moment she spends here feels more and more like home, and she never wants to let go.

* * *

Surprisingly or not, Quinn ends up winning, and she uses the opportunity to make her escape before her father sends out a search party or something ridiculous like that.

"Did you and my Dad talk?" Rachel asks, unable to stop herself, as she walks Quinn out to her car. "Something definitely happened."

Quinn resists the urge to shrug, because that'll just hurt. "I think we just understand each other a bit better now," Quinn says cryptically.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "That isn't helpful at all."

"It wasn't meant to be."

Rachel just smiles at her. "Well, if this is the start of everyone learning to get along, then I'm not going to question it."

"Liar," Quinn teases. "You practically reek of questions. I bet, once I'm gone, you're going to interrogate your Dad."

Rachel lets out a soft giggle. "Three questions, at most," she admits. "Maybe four, if he's being too evasive."

Quinn's features soften, and she tilts her head to the side. "Wow," she whispers.

"What?"

"I really, really like you."

Rachel blushes brightly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Rachel murmurs; "because I kind of like you too."

"Just 'kind of?'"

Rachel wraps her in a hug, frowning at the way Quinn tenses. "What's wrong?" she asks, releasing her.

"Just... still sore," Quinn says, looking away. "I should get going."

Rachel frowns, but she eventually steps back. "Remember to think about going to Noah's party," she says. "We don't even have to go for long. I just think the Glee Club would like to see you."

Quinn's features harden almost immediately. "Let's not kid ourselves, Rach," she says; "They don't give a shit about me."

"Quinn, don't say that," Rachel chastises.

"We both know it's true," Quinn dismisses. "I could have disappeared off the face of the earth and nobody would have noticed."

"I would," Rachel says, and her voice is soft, vulnerable. "I did."

Quinn's eyes soften, and this time Rachel isn't mistaking the something a lot like love in those hazel eyes. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."

Rachel casts a quick look around, notes the empty, dark night, and then reaches up to kiss Quinn's cheek. "I really, really like you, too."

"Good," Quinn murmurs.

"Yip," Rachel muses. "You deserve all the good."

* * *

Quinn recovers just in time to agree to Rachel's particular brand of trying to convince her to go to Noah's Friday night party.

Rachel really pulls out all the stops, wearing those sinfully-short shorts and way too tight tank tops, because she clearly enjoys torturing her girlfriend. She's also learned the best ways to kiss Quinn; to render completely dazed, speechless. To turn her to putty.

To get her to agree to just about anything.

Which is how Quinn finds herself getting dressed for her first party of the summer in Rachel's bedroom. She was able to get away with not actually changing in front of Rachel - they're girlfriends, so getting semi-naked in each other's presence can get the blushes blooming - but everything else is in her presence.

Makeup, hair, picking out shoes.

Rachel is in a skirt and top combination that has Quinn's gaze straying more often than not. Honestly, she feels as if she's getting more and more attracted to Rachel with every day that passes.

The girl is actually just so stunning, and Quinn's mouth is dry as she watches Rachel float around, gathering her things.

Quinn won't admit it, but one of the reasons she was so hesitant to agree to the party is because it's a direct breach of rules her father set out. For the most part, Quinn has managed to stay within the boundaries.

She hangs out with only one person, who is definitely not a boy. When she's not at home or out with her parents at church or at another family's house, she's with Rachel. Her father has come to accept that, as long as Quinn sends the standard text every few hours.

Now, though, she's going to a party, with booze and boys, and she's been forced to admit to herself she's nervous. She doesn't know what'll happen if it gets back to her father.

Still.

She's going to try to enjoy herself.

Because, really, her girlfriend looks hot, and Quinn gets to look at her all night. Touch her, maybe. They've been relatively tame in that department. She prefers it, sure, because making out with girls is still new to them both.

How good it feels is so foreign to her. Wanting someone this way is nothing she's ever experienced before.

Rachel surprises her by touching the back of her neck with cool fingers, and Quinn looks up from where she's sitting at Rachel's vanity.

Quinn smiles at her. "Hi, baby," she whispers.

Rachel drops a kiss to the top of Quinn's head. "You almost ready?"

Quinn separates her knees, and tugs Rachel into the space between her legs, her arms wrapping around Rachel's thighs. She buries her face in her abdomen, inhaling deeply.

It's moments like these she's almost sure she's fallen in love.

And, then, Rachel will look at her with those chestnut eyes, and there's really no 'almost' about it.

* * *

Rachel almost expects Quinn to want to enter the house separately, so she's surprised when Quinn follows right behind her, standing far too close.

"I'm here with you," Quinn says when Rachel glances over her shoulder at her. "I don't care what anyone says. I'm here with you."

Rachel practically swoons. She feels slightly lightheaded, and she hasn't even had a sip of alcohol. She's still up in the air if she's going to be drinking at all, because Quinn quite sternly said she wasn't. She gets the feeling Quinn will pay better attention to her than Finn ever did, regardless of her own level of inebriation.

Generally, people don't notice when Rachel arrives, but they definitely do when Quinn does. Rachel has tried to get over just how stunning the blonde is, but she doubts it'll ever happen. She's wearing this blue dress that hugs her curves spectacularly, and Rachel can't really blame people for staring.

"Am I allowed to act aloof and unaffected?" Quinn asks, ignoring everyone but Rachel as she leads them towards the kitchen.

"As long as it's not with me," Rachel tells her.

"Never with you," Quinn assures her. "Never again."

And, Rachel believes her.

Quinn busies herself in the kitchen, making herself a virgin Shirley Temple, and a passion fruit and lemonade for Rachel.

"Where did you learn how to make these?"

Quinn glances at her. "You do realise yours consists of literally two things... that are in its actual name."

"Hush, you."

Quinn grins at her, and their eyes meet for a moment. It's as if the great big world doesn't exist. It's just them. They're the only two people who matter.

Before long, though, the spell is broken when a group of people come into the kitchen, and Quinn's expression closes itself off. Rachel sighs, but says nothing. It's the way Quinn protects herself, Rachel realises, but it doesn't make it any less heartbreaking.

"Come on," Rachel says; "I want to show Kurt my outfit, so he can stop calling me completely useless."

Quinn follows Rachel out of the kitchen and further into the house. The music is loud and the crowd is rowdy. People stare and greet her, and she just nods in return. She wonders if they even noticed she hasn't been to any previous parties this summer, with the way they can't seem to leave her be at this one.

They bump into Noah on their way, and he appraises them both. Quinn feels slightly nauseated by the way he openly checks her out, and she almost smiles at the way Rachel's jaw tightens.

She says 'almost,' because then it's her turn to deal with the way Finn looks at Rachel, and her fists clench. Finn is standing with Kurt and they're talking to Mike and Tina about something, but all conversation seems to stop when Rachel and Quinn approach.

"Jesus," Quinn mutters under her breath.

Rachel just smiles, because she's choosing to find humour in this. They just have to get over the initial awkwardness, and then they can all start having a good time.

"You're here," Kurt says. Then, he smiles this smile that sets Rachel's nerves on end. "With Quinn."

Quinn looks at him, thoroughly unimpressed. "Hello, Kurt."

"Quinn."

"We haven't seen you all summer," Tina says. "How've you been?"

Quinn is tense, and Rachel lifts her hand to scratch her neck, her fingers brushing against Quinn's in solidarity on their way up. "Good," Quinn says. "What about you guys? No Asian Camp this summer?"

Tina rolls her eyes, and Mike looks a little uncomfortable.

"Not this year," Mike says.

Quinn just nods. "People go to camp to get the girl, anyway, right?"

Mike seems to relax at the sound of that. "That's what they tell me, anyway."

Quinn always liked him. He's probably the most decent boy she's met, which probably isn't saying much, but it's still something. "And, you're sorted in that department," Quinn says, offering a kind smile.

Mike smiles back, slipping an arm around Tina's shoulders. "There are no awesome parties at camp, anyway," he says.

Quinn could probably settle into this conversation easily enough, but Finn clears his throat, and her unease multiplies.

"Hey, Rach, do you want to get a drink?" Finn asks, being entirely too obvious about what he really wants: to get Rachel alone.

Rachel frowns slightly. "I'm good," she says, holding out her cup to show him the liquid level. "Thanks, though."

Finn steps closer to her. "Do you want to talk?"

Her frown deepens. "No, thank you."

"We should dance," Finn finally says. "You're always saying you want to dance, right? I know I'm not that good, but we can still dance, right?"

Rachel shakes her head. "I'm not really up for dancing right now," she says, shrugging slightly.

Kurt looks incredulous. "You don't want to dance?"

"I'm a fan of pain-free feet," she says, and then winces. "Sorry, Finn."

Finn doesn't look offended.

"Rachel," Kurt says. "Can I talk to you?" He glances at Quinn, who is looking out the window with a pensive look on her face. "In private."

Rachel hesitates, and she looks at Quinn over her shoulder, silently asking if she's going to be okay. The blonde just about manages to smile at her, and Rachel sighs. "Sure, Kurt," she says, and then allows him to lead her away from the little group. She looks over her shoulder again, watching as Finn walks away as well, and Quinn involves herself in conversation with Mike.

Rachel smiles to herself, and she just manages to school her features before Kurt turns to look at her once they're in the kitchen.

"Spill," Kurt says.

Rachel lifts her shoulders, and then drops them. "Spill what?"

"Did you seriously arrive with Quinn Fabray?"

Rachel almost smiles at the mere mention of the blonde, but she controls herself. "I did," she says. "We've been hanging out."

His eyes are so wide; it's actually comical. "Hanging out," he echoes in slight disbelief. "Why?"

"Well, after you all claimed not to have heard anything from Quinn the last time we were all together, I got... worried. So, I texted her, and now we're working on this whole being friends thing." Which, okay, isn't entirely an untruth. The only way their relationship will work is if they can maintain their friendship.

"Wow," Kurt says. "I did not see that coming."

Neither did she.

"Is that why you've been ignoring Finn?"

"Hmm?"

"Because you're now friends with Quinn, and Finn has always been the one sure thing you fight about?"

Rachel wants to say yes. It would be too easy, really, but she resists. Agreeing to that would just put some kind of target on Quinn's back, if it ever gets back to Finn, especially. "No," she says. "Not really." She blinks. "I told him no in New York, but he's obviously not accepting it. I thought, maybe, it was the city lights that influenced the decision, so we went to dinner, and then we came to that party together, but it's more than that."

"You don't like him anymore?"

"Not in that way," she says. "I think I got my dreams skewed. I want New York, not Finn Hudson, and I can't realistically see a way to have both, so I'm choosing _now_, and, while I don't expect anyone to understand, it's just - "

"I think I get it."

"You do?"

"I love Blaine, I really do, but New York is my dream," he says. "Though, I guess, New York is also sort of his, so I think we'll be okay."

Rachel makes a mental note to ask Quinn about her dreams, and she's slightly wary of what the blonde will say. All Rachel wants to hear is 'New York,' or, really 'You.' "Of course you will," Rachel says.

She feels a little better now, but that all gets derailed when Finn stumbles towards them. She looks to Kurt for some help, and he smiles in sympathy.

"I think you're going to have to be painfully clear with him," Kurt says. "Rip off the _Bandaid_, as it were."

Rachel pleads with her eyes, but he just pats her shoulder, and then leaves her to deal with Finn by herself. She looks around for Quinn to come save her, but her girlfriend it out of sight for the moment.

"Hey, Rach," Finn says. "You having a good time?"

Rachel definitely isn't, but she doesn't say that. "I suppose," she allows. "You?"

"I'm hoping it's going to get better," he says, and Rachel resists the urge to sigh. "Have you - "

"Finn," she says. "I already told you I can't do this."

"We can make it work," he says. "I get that you're going to New York, but that's still a whole year away."

She shakes her head, realising Kurt is right. She has to rip it right off. "I don't want to do this," she says. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to be with you. I lost myself in pursuing you, and I don't like who it turned me into. I thought I needed you, but I don't. I don't want you." It might be a bit much, but she suspects she has to overshoot to get through to him.

"Oh," he sounds, and she can practically see the cogwheels turning in his head. His facial expression shifts from confusion to anger when it finally sinks in, but he doesn't get the opportunity to react, because Quinn is suddenly at her side, looking pale with panic.

Rachel immediately feels cold all over. "What's wrong?"

"I have to go," Quinn says. "I - I - God, I have to go. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is - this is - "

Rachel turns her body to face her, rigid. "Quinn?"

"I don't know how he found out about - oh, God, I'm sorry." Her eyes are wide, and she's trembling. "I have to go." She hands Rachel her car keys. "Will you be able to get home okay?"

Rachel finds herself nodding, because she needs to give this one thing to Quinn.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says, and she sounds severe. "I'm so sorry."

Rachel barely has time to reach out for her, before Quinn is turning. Rachel's fingers just miss grabbing hold of her arm, and she can't shake the feeling that Quinn's just slipped away for good.

* * *

Quinn is in the middle of dealing with Santana when she gets the first text. She ignores it because Santana is saying, "Jeez, if you stared any harder, you would burn holes through the both of them."

Quinn wants to ignore her, because she's a little bruised that her Latina... friend has been ignoring her all summer. She gets that Santana has had her own drama with which to deal, but she thought they... achieved something in New York.

Obviously, she was wrong.

"Seriously, stop staring," Santana says. "It's creepy." She pauses. "Dude, are you actually glaring at Finnocence in this situation?"

Quinn really does ignore her now, just continuing to sit here with her relatively untouched drink and looks across the room to where Finn and Rachel are talking.

It angers her, but she also accepts that Rachel needs to make herself crystal clear to the boy. She's not interested. She's taken.

So, when Quinn receives a second text, she's slightly distracted when she fishes for her phone, and then she drops her drink when she sees they're both from her father.

**Russell**: _Where are you?_

**Russell**: _The question was asked out of curiosity. I wanted to know if you would lie, but I've lost patience with you and your sinful ways. Come outside before I'm forced to come inside and separate you from that harlot_.

"What the fuck, Fabray?" Santana hisses, trying to get away from the spilt drink.

The colour drains from Quinn's face, and she almost laughs at how typical this all is. Just when she thinks the night can't get more... something. She has no idea how he even knows where she is, but that's an unnecessary question.

If he's here...

God.

Quinn scrambles to her feet, her mind blanking on what to do. There's no way to escape it, because she definitely wouldn't put it past her father to come storming into this house and demanding she go with him.

She stumbles towards Rachel. She's pretty sure she says words to her, handing over her car keys, and then her feet carry her outside, as if she's on autopilot.

For a moment, she considers this is all some mistake and she's not going to find her father waiting for her. But, well, there he is, sitting primly in his flashy BMW, an unreadable expression on his face.

He's silent as Quinn very carefully climbs into the passenger's seat. He says no words as he shifts the car into gear, and Quinn has just enough time to turn her head and see Rachel standing on the front lawn, looking as perplexed as Quinn has ever seen her.

Russell drives them to Rachel's house, and Quinn internally cringes. How does he even know this is where she's been?

"You have five minutes," he says, tone clipped. "Get your things, and then drive your car behind me."

Quinn can feel the fear swimming in her veins. She has very few options in this moment, because Rachel's fathers aren't home. She knows she needs to get her father as far away from this house as possible, so she gets out and runs to the front door.

Quinn uses the spare key to gain access to the house, and then she sprints up the stairs. She has just enough time to thank her lucky stars Rachel is so neat, because her things are mostly already packed. She tosses in the last essentials, and then grabs a pen and a _Post-It_ from Rachel's desk.

She spends a moment considering what to write, and eventually settles on the truth. If this is the last time she gets to see or talk to Rachel, then she needs the brunette to know something very important.

When she's done, Quinn wipes at a traitorous tear, grabs her bag and car keys, and then heads down the stairs to meet her fate.

* * *

It's late when Rachel gets home.

She was ready to go tearing out behind Quinn, but she knew that wouldn't help with anything. For the most part, Rachel recognises when to push and when not to, so she went back into the house to try to figure out what caused Quinn to race out of there like a bat out of hell.

Santana just told her Quinn spilt her drink on her, and that she'd been staring daggers at where Rachel was apparently making sappy eyes at Finn.

For a moment, Rachel considers if the fact she was talking to Finn is responsible for Quinn's hasty exit, but she quickly dismisses that.

She's chosen Quinn, and the blonde knows it.

It's something else.

So, it's late when Rachel gets home, and she almost expects to find Quinn asleep in her bed, but the red Bug is gone and so are all of Quinn's things.

All that's left is a single _Post-It_ stuck to her desk.

_Rachel,  
__I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.  
__You are so special, and I've never deserved you.  
__You've given me so much this summer, and I'll always be grateful.  
__Please take care of yourself. Be ridiculous and be happy.  
__I love you.  
__\- Quinn_

Rachel isn't sure what she's supposed to feel about this particular note, and it's that conflict that has her reaching for her phone and dialling Quinn's number.

Only for it to go straight to voicemail.

Her heart feels both heavy and light at the same time, and she doesn't know how that could be.

Quinn loves her.

Quinn told her she loves her.

But.

Quinn also said goodbye.

* * *

It takes Rachel two days to go a little crazy.

Quinn isn't answering her phone, responding to texts or even replying to her _Facebook_ messages.

Quinn is nowhere, and Rachel doesn't know her new address, now that she's moved.

It's torture.

It's more than torture.

She hates it.

She hates that she doesn't know, and she hates it even more because she doesn't know what she would do if she did.

* * *

When Tuesday comes and goes without Quinn coming over, Rachel knows there's something seriously wrong. She's asked Santana and Mercedes, and even Sam if they've heard from her, but it's radio silence.

"She wasn't even at church," Sam told her over the phone, which Rachel reasons is supposed to mean something.

"Were her parents there?" Rachel asked.

"Actually, no, they weren't."

Now, Rachel really isn't sure what that all means, but she knows this entire situation doesn't bode well for Quinn. It's just a feeling she has, and she doesn't know how to bring it up to her fathers without coming across as overly dramatic. She's been known to jump to conclusions, but she thinks she'd be jumping just the right amount in this situation.

Still, how does she say those frightening words?

LeRoy goes straight to the kitchen when the men get home from the hospital, and then immediately comes back out, finding Rachel sitting on the couch. "No Quinn?" he asks with a bit of a pout. "She promised me muffins."

Rachel sighs. "I think something's wrong," she says.

LeRoy blinks. "What do you mean?"

"I haven't heard from her since she left on Friday," she confesses.

LeRoy moves to sit beside her, aware of his husband lurking somewhere behind them. "Did you two have a fight?"

"No," Rachel says. "I mean, not that I know of, at least. We were fine at the... party." She winces slightly, but LeRoy looks unfazed. "I was talking to Finn, though, trying to explain that I'm really not interested, and then she came up to me and said she had to go. She looked so... panicked. She kept apologising, and she... she said something about not knowing how someone found out, but I don't - "

"We have to go, right now."

Both Rachel and LeRoy turn to look at Hiram, whose own eyes are wide. "Dad?" Rachel questions.

"Friday, you said?" Hiram asks, already reaching for his keys. "God. That's already four days. We have to go now."

LeRoy gets to his feet. "H, what's going on?"

Hiram looks at Rachel. "Sweetheart, I'm assuming you know where she lives?"

Rachel shakes her head. "She told me she moved."

Hiram sighs. "I think it goes without saying that she was probably lying about that," he says. "Let's go."

* * *

Quinn counts.

Out loud or in her head, she counts the seconds between when she can... safely take her painkillers. It's the only thing her mind is focused on, really.

How long until she gets some pain relief?

It's funny, almost, how everything just hit the fan all at once. She was pulled into some sense of false security. She likes to think things might have been okay if they didn't go to that stupid party, but then she has to remember that Russell did the thing and actually checked her search history.

Quinn couldn't even question how he got into her laptop, but he did. Apparently, he's tracked her phone every time she leaves the house, and he was content to let her be at her 'friend's' house, so long as she wasn't causing trouble.

Then, she did the thing and went to Noah's house and, when he checked her location, she was somewhere new. Which prompted a deep dive into what she's been up to, and finding websites to help gay teenagers open on her _Google Chrome_ was... probably a surprise for him.

Quinn's never really wondered if she prefers his rage or his calculation.

Well, she knows now.

Calculation is worse.

So much worse.

Now, her phone is gone, and so is her laptop. He was mad at himself for allowing her too much freedom; for giving her too much leeway and too much trust. He should have known better. He'd allowed her to spread her legs for a boy before, and now she's managed to do it for a girl.

She's a sinner.

The Devil is in her.

They're the words that keep repeating in her head, and she tries to remind herself that she's good, and she deserves all the good things.

She really, really does.

So, she counts.

Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six -

It's around the time her parched lips are forming around the word eighty that something changes.

It _gives_.

* * *

Quinn flinches when her bedroom door flies open, and her automatic response is to curl into a ball and protect her already-injured ribs. Her heart is pounding, and she just wants it to be over.

He's proved his point. Can't he just leave her alone?

"Quinn?" a man's voice says, but it's not her father's. She might be hallucinating, she thinks, but she still peeks out from behind her arms, and her blurry eyes settle on... LeRoy's face.

She gasps. Is this real? Is he really here?

"Come on, Sweetheart," he says. "Let's get you out of here." It's against protocol, he knows, but he can't stand the thought of her spending another second in this house.

She blinks up at him. "I - I can't," she rasps. "He knows about her. He'll come for her."

"No, he won't," LeRoy says, and then he's scooping her up into his arms, hating how light she feels.

Quinn bites the inside of her cheek and shuts her eyes tightly as pain shoots through her body. "No," she cries. "He - "

"Ssh," he soothes, as he starts walking out of the room, never looking back. They'll get her things later. Fuck, they'll buy her new things if they need to. "It's okay," he murmurs. "I promise it's all going to be okay."

For a reason she can't explain, Quinn believes him. "Okay," she whispers, resting her matted hair against his shoulder.

LeRoy feels his heart clench, because she looks so much like a little girl, right now, and he can't imagine how anyone could ever want to hurt her.

"Lee," Quinn whispers.

"Hmm?"

"Are those fireworks?" she asks, and she sounds sleepy.

LeRoy smiles to himself, because she's obviously asking about the red and blue flashing lights. "No, Honey," he says. "Not fireworks. Salvation."

"Oh," Quinn says, drifting.

Eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three...

* * *

Rachel never expected the first time she would tell Quinn Fabray she loves her to be in the hospital.

But, it is.

And, Quinn is asleep.

Rachel's actually crying when she says it, because she's just so relieved that she's laying eyes on her blonde girlfriend after four days of... unknown.

So, Rachel says, "I love you, you ridiculous human," to a bruised and battered girl, and she feels both better and worse for it.

* * *

Quinn isn't really sure what's happening, but LeRoy said she's not returning to her house, and she believes him. Policemen ask her questions, and she answers as best she can, oddly embarrassed by the fact all these people now know she was... abused.

It makes her feel dirty, unworthy.

Just, all kinds of _bad_.

Like it's her fault.

It doesn't help that Rachel keeps looking at her with _those_ eyes, or that LeRoy hovers unnecessarily. It also really doesn't help that Santana shows up and says absolutely nothing as she stares, or that Mercedes starts crying when she sees her.

The only person who treats her normally is Hiram, and he does the thing and brings _Scrabble_, just for her to feel somewhat normal. She has broken ribs and bruises in places she didn't know existed, but she's still Quinn and her brain still works just fine.

It's after she's just scored an impressive double word score that Hiram says, "Your father wants this to go away as quietly as possible."

Quinn freezes at the mention of her father.

"His lawyers have managed to work a deal, so that he'll plead guilty to child endangerment, which will see him serve house arrest for two years and fifteen hundred hours of community service following that."

Quinn blinks, unsure how to feel about all that new information. "What about my Mom?"

He hesitates. "Well, the charges are mainly filed against him," he says. "She's an Accessory, but the Prosecution doubts it'll stick... given her own obvious injuries and her refusal to cooperate at all."

Quinn blinks. "She's choosing him again," she murmurs.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," he says, solemn.

"Despite everything, I wanted to take her with me," she says. "He hurts her too."

"Maybe, with the constant monitoring, she'll be safer." Even as he says it, he doesn't quite believe it. "We can try to help as much as possible, but we can't force her to leave." He pauses. "Which is why I have to ask: we're not forcing you, are we?"

"No."

"Good," he says, smiling sadly; "because, I think Rachel might actually divorce her parents if you were ever to go back to that house."

Quinn nods. "My bags were already packed," she says, frowning at herself. "I don't really know what I was waiting for. I just - I didn't really know what I would do, and it just seemed... easier to follow his rules if it meant I had a place to go. Even that kind of home is better than no home at all, because I know what that feels like."

Hiram says nothing as he plays his next word, getting a score of twenty-three.

"Closet," Quinn reads, frowning. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

He looks perplexed. "What? No. What?"

She smiles softly. "I'm in the closet?"

His eyes widen. "No," he says. "Really, those are just the letters I had. You stay where you are as long as you need."

She audibly swallows. "He - he knows," she whispers. "About me."

"I know," he says. "He was yelling some rather obscene things at us when we showed up with the Police to conduct your Wellness Check. About how we turned you; made you a sinner. Put the Devil in you."

"I'm sorry."

"No, Quinn," he says, his voice gentle. "You never apologise for him, okay? Never."

"Okay."

"Good," he says. "Now, it's your turn."

* * *

"Are we going to talk about it?"

Quinn looks up from where she's fiddling with a loose thread on her blanket. "Talk about what, exactly?"

Rachel moves to sit on the edge of Quinn's bed, reaching for the blonde's hands to keep them still. The hospital is not where she wants to be having this conversation, but it's been four days already, and she's slightly impatient.

"Please stop looking at me like that," Quinn suddenly says.

"Like what?"

"With pity," Quinn says, and her voice is low. "I hate it. I don't want it."

Rachel meets her gaze. "Quinn, this isn't pity," she says, careful and truthful. "It's love."

Quinn sucks in a breath.

"We also need to talk about that, by the way," Rachel says. "I almost had a heart attack when I read your note. No, I'm pretty sure I _did_ actually have a heart attack." She pauses. "Did you mean it?"

"Yes."

"Will we talk about it?"

"We'll talk about everything, I promise," Quinn says. "But, for now, do you think we could just sit here? I just want to sit here with you for a little while."

Rachel just nods, getting to her feet and turning. She settles in right beside Quinn, puts her arm around Quinn's shoulders and holds the blonde close against her side. It takes less than a minute, but Quinn eventually burrows into her, her face pressing into Rachel's shoulder.

And, then, she cries.

Rachel cries _with_ her and _for_ her, and she silently vows to hold onto this girl for the rest of her days.

* * *

"How's the scrapbook coming along?" Quinn asks the moment it gets awkward in the Berry family's guest room. She's just finished unpacking a few of her things, and Rachel is just standing there, watching her.

"Quinn," Rachel says.

"Hmm?"

Rachel starts towards her, slow and purposeful. "I know we said we would talk, but, umm, can I hug you?" She drops her gaze. "I mean, it feels like it's been forever since we've really hugged properly, and I've missed you, and I just really - "

"Come here," Quinn gently interrupts, waving a hand.

Any other day, Rachel might have thrown herself at Quinn, but this hug is gentle.

It's an embrace.

It's everything.

"I'm glad you're here," Rachel whispers into Quinn's hair. "You're not freaking out, are you?"

"About the fact that I'm going to be living with my girlfriend?"

Rachel just hums.

"No, not about that," Quinn says.

"Something else, then?"

Quinn pulls back to look at her face. "I love you," she says, her voice steady.

Rachel just stares at her for a long moment, and then she smiles this bashful thing. "I love you, too."

Quinn blushes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

"She settle in okay?" LeRoy asks when Rachel heads down the stairs on Quinn's first official night in their home.

"Sort of," Rachel answers, wincing slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"She tried to get to sleep in the guest room, but..." she trails off. "Well, she's currently in my bed."

"Oh."

Rachel doesn't believe it's a problem, because Quinn always sleeps in her bed with her, but things are a little different now. She can't be sure exactly how it's different, but they're all going to have to adjust.

"But, she's asleep?" Hiram asks.

Rachel nods, and then smiles. "She's kind of adorable, you know."

LeRoy smiles at her. "We know."

With a sigh, Rachel crosses the room and squeezes onto the couch between her fathers. She's never been more grateful for them than this past week, and she loves them more than she can possibly tell them.

LeRoy puts an arm around her shoulders. "You okay there, Sweetheart?"

"I just - I just really love you guys," she says. She looks at Hiram. "I know things have been... tense with us for a while, but - "

"I'm sorry," he says, interrupting. "I have my own issues with Russell Fabray, and I held an insurmountable grudge towards an innocent child." He sighs. "Well, I wouldn't say innocent," he adds a moment later. "She - she told me about the slap."

Rachel tenses.

"What slap?" LeRoy asks.

Rachel sighs , and then proceeds to explain the events leading up to the slap, the actual slap, the immediate aftermath, and then the first text Quinn sent that really paved the way for their relationship.

"I never really understood why she apologised so much before all of this," Rachel says softly. "She was just so distraught, so disgusted with herself, and I don't think she's ever truly believed that I forgive her. I don't know how she even begins to forgive herself if she can't believe I have."

"She'll find a way," Hiram says.

Rachel rests her head on Hiram's shoulder. "Thank you," she says. "Dads, thank you."

* * *

Later, when Rachel crawls into bed beside Quinn, she's surprised to feel Quinn's arms snake around her body, drawing her in close.

She smiles when she feels Quinn's face press against the side of her neck. Her soft puffs of breath are soothing, and her heart jolts when Quinn whispers the words, "I love you," right into her skin.

Rachel doesn't think she'll ever get tired of hearing it.

"Is this a dream?" Rachel asks softly.

"I've been asking myself that same question all night."

Rachel turns her head, and presses a kiss to the underside of Quinn's chin. She inhales deeply, having missed Quinn in some of the best and worst ways.

Quinn tilts her own head, and they share their first kiss since the party that should never have been. It's a slow, gentle kiss, and it manages to settle something in both of them.

Rachel kisses her with all the love in the world. She's surprised by how simple and easy this all is.

They're okay.

They're going to be just fine.

"Did you think it was going to be weird?" Rachel asks against Quinn's lips. "Living here?"

"It's been barely six hours, baby," Quinn murmurs.

"Still."

"A little," she admits. "But, I like it. I really like being here with you."

Rachel can hear slight hesitance in her tone. "But...?"

"I just - I'm worried that my living here will put a strain on our new relationship," she says. "I mean, what happens if we fight? Do I just go to the guest room and wait it out? What - what happens if - if we break up? Will - will I have to leave?"

Rachel tenses, immediately sitting up. "Baby, no," she says, doing her best to meet Quinn's gaze in the dark of the room. "Please don't ever think that. This - this is your home now. This is your safe place now."

"_You_ are my safe place," Quinn says.

"I love you," Rachel tells her, lying back down.

Quinn kisses her cheek, and resettles against her, arms tightening around a thin abdomen. "Goodnight, Rach."

"Goodnight, Quinn."

* * *

There are only two weeks left of summer, and Rachel wants nothing more than to spend it just with Quinn.

And her fathers, of course, but mainly with Quinn.

They spend their days working on the scrapbook, because Quinn can't do much else. There's something so... amazing about getting to be with Quinn this way. There's no limit to their time together, because Quinn doesn't have to go home.

She _is_ home.

They fall into a neat little routine, and the fact that Quinn actually _likes_ to cook makes life wonderful for the Berry family.

LeRoy enjoys coming home to find her already in the kitchen, and they finish up together, casually discussing recipes that are both vegan and not. Mostly not.

Rachel usually sits in the kitchen and just watches them, internally loving the way Quinn just fits into their lives so easily.

Well, not _that_ easily.

Rachel and Quinn have had two notable fights already. Rachel discovers, through a snapped _God, will you just leave me alone for five minutes_? from Quinn that, sometimes, her blonde girlfriend just needs some time to herself.

They also fight about the chores. It's nothing serious, not really, but Quinn wants to contribute in any way she can, but Rachel tells her it's not necessary. They fight, and then Quinn very quietly says, "Please, please just let me do something. I feel useless enough."

Rachel just kisses her. "Okay," she says. "Okay, baby, you can take out the trash if it'll make you feel better."

Quinn pouts. "It will."

Rachel kisses her again, and again.

Quinn moans under the attention of Rachel's mouth, and this is the most heated kiss they've shared since she moved into the Berry home. They're alone in the house, with both Rachel's fathers at work, and Quinn can tell Rachel is gearing up for a hot make-out session.

Quinn wants it, too, which is why she leans back on the couch and drags Rachel into her lap. Her hands slide under Rachel's shirt, fingertips tracing the skin of her back. She feels dazed and lightheaded... which all gets amplified when Rachel's hips shift against her.

Rachel's fingers slide into Quinn's hair, tugging lightly as the kiss deepens. If she's being honest, Rachel was worried Quinn would be wary of actually continuing their relationship. She thought Quinn would start to resent her for being partly responsible for the way she ended up leaving home.

But, then, Quinn bites her bottom lip and those hands tug her closer, and Rachel forgets all her own apprehension, sinking into the kiss with everything she is.

Coherent thinking completely fails her, but she's uncaring at this point. How can she care about anything other than the fact she's currently straddling Quinn, and the blonde is making all those delicious sounds?

They're so close to each other that Rachel can actually feel the outline of Quinn's bra through the fabric of her top. It's heady, and Rachel wants her.

God, she wants her.

She can't even explain the relief she feels to know Quinn wants her, too.

* * *

Later, when their kisses have slowed and Rachel has actually located her shirt and slipped it back on, Quinn asks, "Is this the moment you ask me about going to Puck's end-of-summer party?"

Rachel looks caught, her expression guilty. "No...?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "God, you would totally suck at poker," she comments.

"I resent that."

"I'm not going," Quinn says. "I already have enough people staring at me without the entire town knowing my father almost... killed me. It - I - I don't want to go through that until I absolutely have to."

Rachel nods. "Okay, baby," she says. "I was just going to mention it, but I'm not feeling up to it, either. I kind of really like having you to myself."

"You just like kissing me," Quinn teases.

"That, too."

"I love you."

Rachel leans over to kiss her cheek. "I love you, too."

Quinn blushes, which is something she does quite often, Rachel muses. It's cute.

_She's_ cute, and Rachel is so in love.

* * *

"Hey, Rach?" Quinn says, looking up from the book in her hands.

"Hmm?"

"Would you help me with something?"

Rachel meets her gaze. "Are we about to rob a bank?"

"Something like that, yeah," Quinn says with a wink. "Not really, though. It's not illegal."

"That's a relief," Rachel says, turning her body to face her. "What are we doing?"

Quinn nervously touches her hair, twirling some around her forefinger. "I think I want to dye my hair," she says, frowning slightly. "I just - I want a change." She drops her gaze and her voice. "I think I just need a few weeks of... not being the _blonde bitch_ my father likes to think I am."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "What - what colour are you thinking?"

Quinn smiles softly, grateful Rachel isn't asking too many questions. "What's your favourite colour?"

Rachel's smile is mischievous when she meets Quinn's gaze. "Well, baby, if people are going to stare, anyway, we may as well give them a good reason, right?"

* * *

They end up deciding to go to Noah's party.

Quinn's the one to bring it up again, casually running a hand through her hair, ruffling it until it sits just perfectly.

Rachel thinks she's unfairly attractive like this, all comfortable in her skin and looking about as delicious as Rachel has ever seen her. She wasn't sure how the pink hair would turn out, but it's done more for Quinn than Rachel ever thought it would.

Quinn seems freer, more settled, less conscious of herself and everyone else. The hair has given her an excuse to let go of all her reservations, and just be. It's delightfully distracting, and Rachel worries for her perfect grades when they get back to school.

It doesn't help that Quinn's also started dressing differently. The dresses are still there, but they're not an everyday thing. There are jeans and shorts and skirts and themed t-shirts and checked shirts, and Rachel spends far too much time imagining Quinn _out_ of those clothes.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asks, her focus caught between looking at Quinn's face or at her mussed hair. She wants her fingers in that hair. Right now.

"No," Quinn says, smiling sheepishly. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know."

Rachel reaches out a hand, which Quinn immediately takes, stepping forward until Rachel wraps an arm around her legs from her seated position at the dining room table.

"We don't have to, you know?" Rachel offers.

"I know," Quinn says, her hand sliding along Rachel's back. She bends to kiss the top of Rachel's head. "It's okay, you know. I think it'll be okay."

Rachel looks up at her. "You don't have to do this for me, you know," she says. "We can just stay home."

Quinn grins widely.

Rachel furrows her brow at her reaction. "What?"

"_Home_," Quinn says. "I'm finally home."

* * *

People stare.

God, they're not even being subtle about it, but Rachel is proud of the way Quinn just seems to ignore it, seemingly unaffected by anything and everything.

Quinn stands right near Rachel, always within touching distance, and Rachel internally smiles every time Quinn's fingers slip into the belt loops of her shorts. Like she's holding on while they move through these gawking crowds of people.

"Kitchen," Quinn says, and Rachel steers them towards said room. "What are we drinking?" she asks, ignoring the three girls already in the kitchen, who immediately start murmuring to one another.

"Idiots," Rachel mutters under her breath.

Quinn chuckles lowly. "Passion fruit and lemonade?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Can I have what you're having?"

Quinn leans in close and whispers, "You can have everything."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "Behave yourself," she says, and then giggles when Quinn's fingers brush against her bare thigh. She's about to say something else when Kurt and Blaine come tumbling into the kitchen, both of them laughing at something.

Quinn barely acknowledges their arrival, but they stop dead when they see the two of them. Rachel smiles only once in greeting, nodding her head at them as Quinn hands her a red cup.

"What is it?" Rachel asks.

"Try it," Quinn says. "I think you'll like it."

Rachel does try it, and she does like it.

Quinn waits for the room to empty again, and then she murmurs, "Can I have a taste?"

"What?" is all she can get out before Quinn swoops in to kiss her mouth, tongue swirling to get that elusive taste of Rachel's drink. She pulls away too quickly for Rachel's liking, but just in time, because a group of jocks enter the kitchen.

Rachel notices the moment they set their eyes of Quinn, because, if Rachel thought the dresses were hot, the dark look Quinn is currently sporting is pure, unadulterated sex appeal. There's just something dark and dangerous about her, as if her experiences have hardened her in some way.

Quinn must notice their obvious attention, too, because she raises a hand to halt one of the boy's approach. "Don't even think about it, Otto," she says, barely even looking at him. "I haven't quite managed to forget you were the one who threw that... third slushy in my face when the news of my pregnancy became public, so you should definitely hold your breath before you waste it. It's never going to happen."

The jock's mouth slams shut.

"I'm glad we understand each other," she says.

The boy turns around, and starts to walk away, muttering, "Bitch," under his breath.

Quinn reaches out to grab the back of his jacket, and he halts in place. "What did you just call me?"

The boy turns to glare at her. "I called you a bitch," he says. "No wonder your father kicked the shit out of you."

Rachel sucks in a breath, and her anger spikes. She's ready to protect her girlfriend, defend her honour, but Quinn surprises them all by laughing. It's humourless and dark, and Rachel feels a chill run down her spine.

Quinn narrows her eyes at this Otto character. "Is that supposed to hurt me? Is that your going for the jugular, huh, Otto? It's a little weak, don't you think?" She steps closer to him, right up in his face, and her stare is cold. "You want to hit me the way he did?" she growls, and Rachel wants to reach out for her, because it's now clear that Quinn hasn't really dealt with anything that's happened.

"You think it makes you a man?" Quinn continues, and her tone is low and dangerous, the forefinger of her right hand pressing harshly into his chest. "You think it makes you something special to tell me I deserved it? You wish you'd done it yourself? You think you could do it better, huh?"

Otto just stares at her.

Quinn shoves at his chest, and he stumbles backwards. "Go on, then," she says, inviting him forward with a wave of both her hands. "I told you no, and I embarrassed you in front of you friends here, and you clearly think I have to be hit for it, right? So, go on," she hisses. "Hit me, then. You know you want to."

For a moment, nothing happens.

And, then, Otto moves, his hand clenching, and then lifting...

Quinn stands resolutely.

Rachel is frozen in place, her eyes wide.

What happens next is amazing and surprising and horrifying all at the same time, because Quinn steps back quite suddenly, dodging the hand coming her way, and then her knee comes out to hit him in the groin.

Otto doubles over, and Quinn bends to whisper darkly in his ear. "You want to end up like my father; try that again. Because, look where I am, and look where he is. You're not important enough for house arrest, so, really, who's going to be the bitch now?"

Otto just looks up at her, wheezing.

Quinn lets him go, turns on her heel, reaches for her drink with her one hand and Rachel with the other, and then she leads the way out of the kitchen.

Without thinking about it too much, Rachel tugs Quinn's hand to the left, pulling her away from the living room and right out of the house, because this was a mistake.

Quinn isn't ready.

_They're_ not ready, and Rachel should have known better.

Quinn says nothing, just allows Rachel to lead her to the car in silence. Their hands are still clasped, and neither of them seems to care. That part is obvious when Rachel practically shoves Quinn into the passenger's seat, bends down and kisses her with all the feeling in the world.

"You're an idiot," Rachel says, and she's confused by her anger and... the fact that she's actually _really_ turned on.

"I thought I was ridiculous," Quinn says, pouting slightly.

Rachel slams the door shut, and then walks to the driver's side. She takes a moment to compose herself, and then she gets into the car.

Rachel knows Quinn's not drunk, but she's definitely something when the blonde leans over to kiss her neck, a hand sliding along her thigh. "Quinn," she breathes. "Wait until we get home."

Which is telling, really, because she's not saying no.

Just, not now.

* * *

Rachel has no idea how she gets them home when Quinn's lips are doing that, and her fingers are right there.

Somehow, she manages to get them into the driveway, and then Rachel is tugging Quinn into the house and kissing her for all she's worth and more. It's a hot, messy kiss, and their moans are the only sounds heard in the empty house.

Rachel expects them to go the furthest they've ever gone, so she's not surprised when she ends up on her back, topless, on her bed, with Quinn on top of her. There are hands everywhere, and Rachel's breathless and panting.

This is definitely not how she expected this evening to go, but she's definitely not complaining.

Quinn drags her lips down the column of Rachel's throat. The contact feels like too much and not enough at the same time, and she wants more.

So, she decides to take.

Her hands travel down Rachel's body, and she can't stop her smile when she feels the brunette arch into her, seeking contact.

It feels good.

It feels amazing.

And, when Rachel brings her closer, wrapping legs around her hips, Quinn forgets how this night even started.

* * *

"We have to talk about it."

Quinn is still trying to catch her breath when Rachel says the words, and she turns her head to look at the brunette, who has fully rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow. "Talk about what?" Quinn asks, all innocence.

"Oh, don't do that," Rachel says, frowning slightly. "You know we have to talk about what happened tonight."

Quinn grins at her, and it's obvious she's about to allude to their earlier physical activities. "Are you referring to the part when I - "

"_Quinn_."

Her smile fades completely. "Otto wasn't actually going to hurt me; you know that, right?" she starts. "I wouldn't have let him." She clenches her jaw. "I'm not afraid of _him_."

"But, you are of your father?" Rachel asks.

"I - I feel a lot of things when it comes to Russell," Quinn says, sighing. "Fear is one of them. I kind of grew up with it, and, sometimes, I'm relieved he rather kicked me out for getting pregnant than…" she trails off. "I guess the only thing that stopped him was probably the fact Finn was around."

Rachel can barely look at her, her heart twisting painfully in her chest.

"I - I hate him," Quinn continues. "But, there's still this part of me, the little girl in me, that still seeks his attention and approval and love, and I don't know how I'm just supposed to switch that off. How do I make it just go away?" She shakes her head at herself, and Rachel makes a mental note to bring up therapy at some point in the near future.

Everyone needs a Dr Ramsay, she's decided.

"I'm also angry," Quinn continues. "Like, furious. With him. With my Mom, and with myself. I - I could have left, I think. I _could_ have, but I've been so desperate for a family for so long and, even though I knew we were nothing like the average family, there was something… comforting about having a bed and a room and… someone who actually wanted to know where I was, even if it was for nefarious reasons.

"I don't think anything about my life has ever been… normal. It really started when I was six, but it was just called a spanking." Her eyes remain focused on the ceiling. "Kids got them all the time, so I didn't think anything was wrong. But, then, in the sixth grade, we had this woman come to talk to us during Health about what was considered _abuse_, and I started to see things differently. My sister was already gone, and I was his main focus, and that lady made me look at it all in a new perspective. After the lesson, I asked my teacher about it. Like, was a slap considered… abuse, or what does it mean if you get locked in your bedroom with no food?

"Her name was Mrs Moner, and she was such a nice lady. I - I didn't really know what I was condemning the woman to by asking my questions, but she made it her little mission to get to the bottom of it, and I guess she also made the mistake of alluding to it during the next Parent/Teacher Conference, because she was gone exactly three days later. Disappeared completely, and I received the worst… beating of my life - until that point, at least. I knew, then, that nobody could know. I would just end up ruining lives, and I couldn't stand it if anyone I knew or cared about… disappeared again." She blinks. "Especially you. It's - it's one of the reasons I couldn't tell you, because I _knew_ you would want to do something, and I couldn't risk losing you too."

Rachel isn't surprised by the tears on her cheeks, but she doesn't make a sound.

Quinn sighs. "Becoming Quinn was an attempt to distance myself from the Lucy who probably deserved it all," she says, and then shrugs when Rachel makes an unimpressed sound. "I tried to be… perfect. I tried so hard, but I kept failing, and then I _really_ failed, and he did the thing and kicked me out, and, as devastated as I was, there was a part of me that was relieved. Sort of. In some ways, but not in others. I don't know how to explain it. He was still my Dad. She was still my Mom, and I stupidly held onto this hope that they would just come and get me and make it all better." She laughs humourlessly. "Wow, I didn't realise just how fucked up I actually am until right now."

Rachel runs a hand over hair, sniffling softly. "It's nothing we can't work through," she says. "With some help, of course."

Quinn looks at her, slightly amused. "Thanks for not trying to deny the truth of it," she says.

"I've been trying to convince you of things for months, I'm too exhausted to start debating with you now."

"Exhausted, you say?" she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. "Why could that possibly be?"

Rachel kisses her forehead. "I love you."

"Still?"

"Always."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

**Quinn Fabray**: _Hey. Just letting you know you look kind of cute right now. kthanksbye. X_

Rachel looks up from the phone in her hand and raises her eyebrows at Quinn, who is sitting literally across the dining table from her. "Really?" she asks. "You couldn't have just said that?"

Quinn grins at her. "Your fathers are in the next room," she says. "I was trying to be discreet."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "You don't know how to be discreet."

Quinn's eyes light up with mischief, and Rachel wonders where this girl has been all her life. Quinn makes a show of typing something on her phone, bringing the screen right up to her face and sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth as she concentrates.

It's terribly distracting, given what Rachel knows about that tongue, and she's mercifully ripped from her thoughts when her phone buzzes.

**Quinn Fabray**: _I bet I could be discreet about kissing the hell out of you without your fathers even knowing_.

Rachel stares at her with wide eyes. She can hardly believe _her_ Quinn sent the message, but the girl sitting in front of her is obviously blushing, and trying very hard not to be. Rachel doesn't think Quinn would ever actually be able to _say_ the words out loud, anyway, so texting them is the next best option.

"Oh yeah?" Rachel challenges. "I'd like to see you try."

It's entirely the wrong and the right thing to say, because Quinn's facial expression shifts, clearly rising to the provocation. For a moment, Quinn does nothing, but then she disappears under the table, and Rachel has barely enough time to register she's even moved before there are hands on her thighs and Quinn's head is popping up between her legs. Rachel lets out a surprised squeak, and then actually screams when Quinn pushes her chair back, rising up onto her knees and immediately kissing her.

"Rachel?" LeRoy calls from the living room. "Everything okay?"

Rachel breaks apart from Quinn's mouth. "Everything's fine," she says, trying not to sound breathless.

"Okay."

Rachel turns to glare at Quinn, but the blonde is already moving to kiss her again, and all protests die on her lips. Despite the rush _into_ the kiss, the kiss itself is slow. Steady. Loving. It's a quiet one, and Rachel loses herself in the taste of Quinn's talented mouth and the way the blonde's hands slide along her back, drawing her close to the edge of her chair.

When Rachel pulls away to get some much needed air, the first thing she says is, "At this rate, we're never going to finish this damn scrapbook."

Quinn glances over her own shoulder at the mess they've created on the table, which hasn't managed to diminish, despite their best efforts. She's not too fazed about it, because this is the only place she wants to be.

Right here, right now, in this exact moment.

"Hey," Rachel says, turning Quinn's head so she's looking at her. Her fingers run through soft, pink hair, and she can't help her smile at the way Quinn leans into her touch, almost purring in response to her ministrations. "What's going on in that pretty, uh, pink head of yours?"

"You wanted to say blonde, didn't you?" Quinn teases, smiling softly.

"I'm still getting used to it," Rachel confesses, leaning forward and kissing Quinn's forehead. "What's going on?"

"Just thinking," Quinn murmurs, dropping her gaze.

"About what?"

Quinn sighs, deflating slightly. "Just, you know, this is the only place I want to be," she says. "I - I remember thinking that May and June were probably the worst two months of my entire life, but…" she trails off, almost rolling her eyes at herself. "I guess July and August more than make up for them."

Rachel catches on to what Quinn is trying to say without her actually having to say it. "Oh? And, why might that be?"

Quinn shakes her head, laughing to herself. "You're ridiculous," she says.

"Then, I've succeeded," Rachel says, her smile spreading across her face. "As long as you're ridiculous with me."

Quinn's own smile is lazy, almost too happy, really. "Still, I don't know what I've ever done to deserve you," she says, her voice tinged with disbelief and wonder.

Rachel kisses the tip of Quinn's nose. "I already told you, Quinn, that - "

"I know," Quinn gently interrupts. "I _know_, baby."

Rachel pouts slightly. "Well, as long as you know," she says, her fingers threading through Quinn's hair again. "You are lovely and good, and I love you, and please, please don't ever doubt it," she says, drawing Quinn into a hug. "Please," she whispers against the shell of Quinn's ear; "always remember you deserve all the good things."

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
